


The Loft Diaries

by Juleslev25, KaySeeingSparks



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juleslev25/pseuds/Juleslev25, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaySeeingSparks/pseuds/KaySeeingSparks
Summary: A collection of diaries exploring the growing and ever-evolving dynamic between Ciara Brady and newly-appointed roommate, Ben Weston. When an inexplicable and powerful connection begins to flourish, the boundaries between friendship and something more start to blur. One is Salem royalty and already in a relationship. The other is a reformed serial killer on the road to redemption. Add in co-habitation into the mix. Things are bound to get a little messy, right?
Relationships: Ciara Brady & Claire Brady, Ciara Brady & Hope Williams Brady, Ciara Brady/Ben Weston
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. The One With The Late Night Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> While rehashing (and crying, mostly) all that could have been with Ben moving into the loft way back in August of 2018, I decided that there were TOO many stories that were never told. Too many soapy goodness-filled moments that we never got to see. That never came to fruition. So, I ended up doing a thing and decided to write them myself. In the format of one-shots, alternating between Ciara and Ben's POVs, these diaries fill the gaps on what could have happened during that time. I hope you all enjoy the inner workings of my cin-curated minds as much as I love to create them. Also, please be kind. First time trying out this writing thing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ciara wakes up from a bad dream, she heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. That's also where Ben is sound asleep. Or so she thinks.

Diary 1.

Aug. 14th. 2018

Ciara.

It was 2:05 in the morning when she finally woke from the horrendous nightmare that had been plaguing her sleep. She hated being jolted awake like that. Heart pounding. Body covered in sweat. It was like someone took two defibrillator paddles and shocked her heart right out of her chest. She was never capable of falling back asleep after such intense nightmares. Not fully anyway.

She needed water. A big glass of it, too. However, she didn’t want to wake up Ben, who was probably sound asleep on the couch just on the other side of her bedroom wall. But she sweat so much during her nightmares, they completely dehydrated her. No. Waiting until sunrise wasn’t an option. She’d just have to do her best not to make any noise.

Slipping out from underneath the covers, she grabbed the old oversized sweatshirt hanging from the chair next to her dresser and put it on. It was an AC/DC tee from the 90’s that had belonged to her dad. Her favourite piece of clothing she owned. Wearing it made her feel that much closer to him. When she needed him, she wore it. When she felt scared, she wore it. When she felt lost, she wore it. God, she missed him more every day. When he died, so did a piece of her heart, his death darkening a part of her soul. A part she feared would never find the light again. She’d give _anything_ to have him back. Even if it was just for one day. To be able to embrace him. To hear him laugh. To see him smile. That's what dreams were for though, she thought.

Slowly, she cracked open her door. The room was pitch black, except for the moonlight coming in through the window right above where he was sleeping. Doing her best not to make the floors creak, she tiptoed her way to the fridge. She grabbed the Brita pitcher, as well as a glass from the cabinet. Although, as she pulled out the glass from the cabinet, a box of ginger lemon tea stored next to it came flying out, causing a loud thud to vibrate across the room as it hit the floor.

“Damnit”, she whispered to herself, knowing she may very well have just woken him up.

“Ciara?”, a voice whispered back confusedly. Great. She _had_ woken him up.

“Yeah. It’s me. Down here. Behind the counter.” She answered, embarrassingly, as she started picking up the tea bags that had spilled everywhere.

“What- What are you doing?”, he asked, dazed. The raspiness in his voice let her know he was still half asleep. It was bad enough that she was already very much attracted to his regular voice. His ‘I just woke up’ voice was even sexier. This was becoming a real problem for her.

She heard him get up from the couch and start walking towards her...

“Please be wearing a shirt, please be wearing a shirt, please be wearing a shirt”, she muttered under her breath, knowing he was coming to help her. And knowing that if he did so without a shirt, the next couple of minutes would be quite agonizing for her.

“I- I was just getting a glass, and accidentally knocked the tea bags over.” She replied, answering his earlier question.

“Here, let me help you.” He whispered softly.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m almost done anyway.” She pointed out, trying to avoid looking up at him.

“Please. It’s nothing.” He insisted, as he lowered himself to reach her level. No longer being able to avoid him, she tilted her head up and looked him straight in the eyes. Damn. Well, _of course_ , he was shirtless. But that’s not what got her. His eyes did the trick this time. With the moonlight reflecting in them, making them glisten in a way they never had before, it was like she was getting a peak at his soul.

“Thank you.” She murmured.

“Place them in here.” Ciara continued, as she held up the cardboard box the tea bags came in.

As they picked up the remaining bags from off the floor, their hands reached for the very last one at the same time. Her whole body trembled when his fingers touched hers, and for a second, it was like nothing else existed. A total and complete disconnect from the outside world. It was _just_ the two of them…


	2. The One With The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get deep when Ciara confides in Ben about a recurring nightmare she's been having.

Diary 2.

Aug. 14th. 2018.

Ciara. 

_Her whole body trembled when his fingers touched hers, and for a second, it was like nothing else existed. A total and complete disconnect from the outside world. It was just the two of them..._

Like it had been at the cabin.

Realizing their fingers had lingered way too long, she quickly grabbed the last bag, placed it in the box, and stood up. However, this time, instead of putting the tea back into the cabinet, she placed it on the counter next to the coffee machine.

“I’m- I’m really sorry I woke you, Ben.” She faltered.

“No. Don’t worry about it, Ciara. I was barely asleep, anyway. I’ve been tossing and turning ever since I placed my head on that pillow. Got a lot going on in my head, I guess.” He confided.

“Me too. I- I had a really bad nightmare. And they always dehydrate me like crazy for some reason. Maybe it’s because of all the gross sweating that happens? Whatever the reason, this is why I came in here. For the glass of water, I mean.” She explained.

“Shit, that sucks. I’m sorry. I know the feeling. I know what _those_ are like. They’re fucking terrible. Almost like mini panic attacks. You feel like you’re never going to wake up, right?” He asked.

“Yes. Exactly.” Finally pouring herself a glass, she chugged it in a matter of seconds. “Oh my god, I am being _the_ worst hostess right now! Did- did you want a glass?”, she exclaimed, evoking a laugh from him.

“Sure”, he responded.

Reaching on her tiptoes to get another glass, she suddenly felt a rush of shyness course through her body as she remembered just _how_ short her pyjama shorts actually were. Other than her sweatshirt, she was practically naked. And she’d just given him a front-row ticket to the show.

It’s not like she was parading half-naked on purpose. She had literally given no second thought as to what she was wearing coming out of her room because she hadn’t expected Ben to even be awake.

But she was with Tripp now, and this- this wasn’t fair to him. This _thing_ between Ben and her? The one that had been lingering for weeks now? The one that had only amplified the second he had moved in? It wasn’t fair to Tripp. Sure, most people would probably see it as innocent. Just two friends talking. Just a platonic encounter between roommates. But _nothing_ about this was innocent or platonic. And they both knew it.

She should have just taken her glass and walked right back into her bedroom. But she didn’t. Feeling compelled to stay and talk to him, she jumped up onto the counter, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Do you, maybe...wanna talk about it? Your nightmare, I mean.” He posed, timidly, clearly unsure as to whether or not he was overstepping boundaries by asking. She was glad he took the bait.

“I do, but I- I wouldn't really know where to start." Ciara said, confusedly.

"Start at the beginning." He told her.

"Well, it's the same one I’ve been having over and over since before the accident. Before you and I even met. Before you found me. They started happening when things between Tripp and I started getting more serious. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve had this nightmare long before Tripp, even. It started after Chase, actually. After he...assaulted me. I guess they were somehow re-triggered the night Tripp and I-”, she stopped mid-sentence, not knowing if she should continue. He gave her a reassuring nod, letting her know she could tell him anything.

“Tripp had planned this whole romantic night for us and long story short, we ended up making out on the couch. I tried to not think about anything. I tried to just clear my head. But in the end, I just couldn’t bear it. All I could see was... _him_. It was like, all of a sudden it wasn’t Tripp who was touching and kissing me. It was Chase. And then the whole thing felt wrong, you know? Dark. Dirty. That same night was when I broke up with him without any explanation. And a few days later was when I was _forced_ to tell him what'd happened to me. But I already told you about that. Anyway...I think that _that_ whole situation is what brought these nightmares back.”

“Shit. Ciara, I- I didn’t know it was about that. You don’t have to tell me anything, you know that, right? I totally get it if you don’t feel comfortable sharing that with me.” He said.

“No. It’s fine, Ben. Trust me. For some strange reason, you’re the only person I _do_ feel comfortable talking to about it. I can’t explain it. I think that maybe it has to do with the fact that, in a lot of ways, you and I are very similar. Maybe it’s because I think that we’re both...damaged, you know? What- what I’m _trying_ to say is that we’ve both been through a lot of shit. And because of that, I think we view the world quite similarly. The way we analyze and understand things? It's like we do so through the same lens.” She admitted.

For a moment, all he did was look at her. _Really_ look at her.

“I- I know a lot of what I’m saying sounds bad, but I don’t mean it to come off that way.” She backtracked, afraid she may have hurt his feelings. Especially with the comment about being damaged.

“No, I mean? You’re not wrong. I _am_ damaged. Maybe beyond repair at this point.” He confessed, looking down. His words echoed through the dark room and tore at her heartstrings. She hated that he had practically no hope left...That he thought so little of himself.

“I just- I feel safe talking to you. Ever since you took care of me at the cabin. I opened up to you in ways I didn’t even know I could. I know you’d never judge me. And I know that you’ll just... _listen_ , if that’s what I need.” She concluded.

“Always. Whenever you need a friend, Ciara, I’m here for you. Even if it’s just to vent for five minutes. I’ll be there. You’ve done so much for me. How could I ever fully repay you?”, he said with such sincerity, she felt a shiver travel down her spine.

“Thank you. That really does mean a lot.” She replied.

“So, how does the nightmare go? Is it literally always the same or do you experience different variations of it?” He inquired. “Because for me, they don’t necessarily start the same, but they always end the same.”

“No. It’s pretty much the same every night. It’s like I just keep reliving it. _That_ night, I mean. _Exactly_ how it happened. Chase and I were talking on the couch at my grandma Julie’s house. He started to tell me he loved me and that I was the only one who really understood him. I told him that I loved him, too, but as a friend...a brother. That’s when he started to kiss me. I- I pushed him away and told him to stop...that it was wrong. But he didn’t. For every reason I would give him I didn’t want to, he snapped back with an excuse, saying that I was lying to myself and that I _did_ feel the same way he did. That I wanted him like he wanted me.” Ciara explained, trying not to completely breakdown in front of him. The only other people she’d told this story to, in its horrifying entirety, were her mom, and her aunt, Kayla. 

Ben leaned in closer to her on the counter, so much so, that she could feel the heat emanate from his naked chest.

“When he kissed me a second time, I stood up and told him one more time to stop. That’s when he got aggressive. He threw me back on the couch, pinned me down with his body, and covered my mouth with his hand, so that I couldn’t-” She said, her voice breaking, as she recounted the awful, vile things that were done to her that night.

“Then he, um, reached down, lifted my skirt up, and ripped off my tights. I- I tried to get him off, but he was stronger. So, I just...let it happen. It was like my body shut down and became numb. And all that was left to do was wait until he was finished. Until it was over. Until he was done violating me in every way a person could violate another person.” She carried on.

A tear streamed down her face. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Instantly, he placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a tender squeeze. She squeezed back and gave him a quick smile.

“I can still see the haunting, soulless look in his eye so vividly. Like it was yesterday. There was just... _nothing_. He was empty. Completely devoid of any life or emotion. The last thing he said before he forced himself inside was that the next time, it was going to be better. That the next time, it was going to feel good.” She confided, nauseated at the heinous memory.

“That sick piece of-”, Ben started to say, but didn’t finish. She noticed his whole body tense up. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I know you must have heard this a million times, but I really am _truly_ sorry, Ciara.”

Their hands still interlocked, she looked at him and squeezed once more.

"And It’s weird because I think I _know_ I’m dreaming, in a sense, but when I try to wake myself up, I- I can’t.” Ciara explained. “Like I’m _stuck_ , you know? A prisoner to my own mind.” Her voice trembled as more tears streamed down her face. "The empty look in his eye is the last thing I see before I am jolted awake. Every time. With my heart beating out of my chest. So hard, I feel like I’m gonna pass out sometimes.” Ciara continued.

“That’s the adrenaline. It’s your fight or flight response kicking in. Even in your dream state.” He said.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t even know it could be activated while asleep. I just- I really wish they’d go away. I don’t know how many more times I can relive that night.” She whimpered.

“I know it's not my place...but have you ever considered maybe talking to someone? Like a professional. I know how much it helped me. Maybe Marlena could help you get through this.” He suggested.

“I tried that before, and it just- it never worked out. But I could always give it another try. It’s been two years and I _am_ a different person now.” She said, glancing at the clock on the stove top.

Fuck. It was almost 2:30. She had class at nine.

“Well, I should probably head back to bed. Or I’m never going to make it through class tomorrow. But...thank you, Ben. For listening. Talking about it felt...good. Liberating, even. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should do it more. Thank you for being there.” She said, hopping back down from the counter.

“Anytime, Ciara. Good night. Or...good morning?”, he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood a little after their conversation.

“Morning works.” She chirped back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”, he asked before she closed her bedroom door.

“See you tomorrow, Ben.” She grinned.


	3. The One With The Near Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ciara and Ben return home from a day spent together job scouting for Ben, flirty banter ensues. But when talk turns into personal metaphorical takes on rain, tensions begin to run higher than they've ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was co-written with my main, Kay (kayseeingsparks). Our version of what a first 'almost kiss' could have looked like. Hope you guys enjoy.

Diary 3.

Aug. 30th. 2018.

Ben.

“I _told_ you it was going to rain!”, Ben teased, as they walked inside the loft soaking wet from the torrential downpour that had just started falling on Salem. Tripp and Claire had left for work about an hour ago, which meant that they were...all...alone.

They’d spent the whole day together riding around town on her bike, dropping off resumes at every and any place they could find. He had planned to do it alone, but she had generously offered to help him out, especially given the fact that he was basically on foot.

“No. If I remember correctly, you said you _thought_ it was going to rain. I’m afraid those are two very different things, Mr. Weston.” She joked, teasing him back.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one and call it a truce. Deal?”, he said, holding out his hand, waiting for her to shake on it.

She smiled, took his hand into her own, and gave it a soft, yet firm shake. “Deal.”

God, did he love to see her smile. She had the most beautiful one he’d ever seen. He would _never_ get enough.

“Shit, I am completely drenched! That rain really did come out of nowhere.” Ben quipped.

“I know! One minute it was drizzling, and the next, it was apocalyptic. I'll get us some towels.” Ciara grinned, taking off her leather jacket, only to reveal a white, and very _wet_ tank top. One that hugged her body in a way that made it extremely difficult for him to focus.

She headed straight for the bathroom and quickly returned with two small linen towels. “Here.” She spoke softly, handing him one of the towels.

“Thanks.” He replied, dabbing his face and neck as he attempted to dry some of the excess moisture off of his body. He’d worn his navy denim button down and a pair of black jeans, which were both completely drenched in water. He loosened the top buttons of his collar to get a little more comfortable.

“I guess that’s a bike’s biggest downfall. Never know when the weather could turn on you, and then when it does, you’re screwed.” He commented, trying to keep his head up and avoid peeking at how amazing her body looked at the moment.

“No. I don’t see it that way. I kinda love the rain, actually. I don’t know how to explain it but it gives me the biggest rush. I know it sounds stupid, but it- it somehow makes me feel like nothing can stop me. Like I can _say_ , _be_ , or _do_ anything I want. I think there’s something really liberating and therapeutic in that.” She explained, as he listened attentively and heartfeltly, never once letting his gaze leave hers.

Sometimes he couldn’t help how completely mesmerized he was by her. It’s like he held on to her every word for dear life. His feelings for her were growing at a rate that terrified the living shit out of him. Even though he was very well aware of the fact that she had a boyfriend, and that even if she didn’t, she would _never_ feel the same way about him, his feelings only seem to strengthen. But he needed them to start fading away. And fast. He needed them to kindly exit his system. Or he feared he’d never be able to shake these feelings. To shake... _her_.

"I’ve never looked at it like that. I guess rain has always meant the opposite, for me. Darkness. Gloom. The absence of sun. The absence of... _light_. But I think that’s because I’ve always associated it with where I grew up and all the...terrifying stuff my old man did. It rained so much back in Missouri. I remember there was one summer when Jordan and I were kids, it rained for three months straight. That was also the summer Clyde beat our mother so bad, he shattered her wrist and dislocated her jaw. Maybe, that’s why I’ve always hated it.”

He noticed Ciara opening her mouth to say something, but nothing coming out. She clearly hadn’t been expecting _his_ take on rain.

“Actually...I’ve- I’ve never told anyone that before.” He mumbled, his breath shaky.

“I’m so sorry, Ben. Here I am going on and on about how powerful and great the rain makes me feel, while you’re here-”, she began to say before he stopped her.

"No. Don’t. How could you have known? Don’t ever be sorry for feeling what you feel. It’s one of the things I like most about you. How passionate you are. It’s refreshing. So... never apologize for you are.” Ben retorted. He refused to let her feel bad, even in the slightest, about _his_ trauma. God knows she’d been put through too much of her own already. Ciara looked back at him, her eyes full, and transfixed on his. Once again, she opened her mouth to speak, but closed it almost instantly after. They stood frozen, her hand on the counter just inches from his. It would be so easy to lean in, to put his hand over hers—

Ciara quickly looked over to the side and started to fiddle with the hair tie wrapped around her wrist. The moment was over... so why did he still feel a charge in the air? She cleared her throat as she stepped back toward the pantry to grab a floral apron.

"Uh, what are you doing?", he asked, knowing that Ciara putting on an apron could only end in a disaster. He'd seen that woman attempt to cook and it wasn't pretty.

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" She replied, sassing him. 

"Well, it looks to me like you're about to cook." He said.

"Good eye, Ben Weston." She quirked.

"Ciara...Don't take this the wrong way, but...You're _terrible_ at it." He confessed, leaving her slightly offended as she let out an amused gasped.

“Ah! Rude. _Well_ , there is one thing I know how to do. It just so happens that I make a _mean_ grilled cheese. You interested?” She asked, flashing a quick smile.

“Oh, definitely.” He smirked, unable to contain the flirtatious comment that had flashed in his mind. Internally, he kicked himself. “I mean, seriously, grilled cheese sounds... perfect.”

Ciara nodded, tying her hair up on top of her head and twisting the long red apron strings around her waist in a matter of seconds. Even though he knew he should, Ben couldn’t take his eyes off her. Especially because of how the still, clearly damp tank top, the one she hadn't bothered to change, hugged her hips. He shook his head to keep focus.

Ciara took a deep breath and cocked her head slightly to the side. “So, how do I look? Ready to fire us up some dinner?” She inquired through her own laughter. He couldn’t help but return it, once again distracted by the sight of her in front of him. And she looked... stunning. Her disheveled deep, brown hair tied up in what looked like a half-bun, half-ponytail, combined with her flushed rosy cheeks. And the tiny ounce of whatever makeup she seemed to have on. All of it made her emerald eyes shine that much more. She wasn’t just stunning, she was effortlessly beautiful. The kind of woman who, he was sure, at three in the morning, looked incredible.

“You look great! Actually, you just have one- do you mind?” He said, asking for permission to approach after noticing a small strand of hair that had fallen around her face.

“No, go ahead. What is it? Oh god, is it my hair? Do I have crazy, bedhead hair? It’s not looking so cute, huh?”, she replied hastily, unable to stop talking. 

Was that... _nervousness_ he was sensing? He'd sometimes like to think he had an effect on her, just as she had on him. He was starting to realize that perhaps he did.

Closing the distance between them, he inched towards her until he could feel her breath on him.

“It’s not that. You just- You have like, one little strand right here that would look way better...just...like...this.” Ben whispered softly, as he gently tucked the piece of hair behind her ear.

“Th- Thanks.” She responded, as she swallowed. Hard. He could tell she was just as nervous as he was.

Not wanting to let go of her, he let his hand fall to her cheek. He was sure she’d be pushing him away any second now, but time passed, and she _wasn’t_ pulling away. Rather, she moved in a little bit closer, which made him think maybe it wasn’t all in his head after all. That maybe, just maybe...she wanted this, too. That she wanted _him_ , too.

For a second, complete silence filled the room, which was only matched by the sheer amount of tension that also filled the room. The fiery current between them was almost palpable. One hand lingered on the side of her face, while the other found her hand on the counter. Slowly, he slid it up her arm, and over her shoulder, until finally, he found her other cheek. Every nerve ending in his body came alive. Electrified. It was like he was on fire. Like he was standing in gas and she was the flame, igniting every fiber of his being.

He’d never felt more alive before in his life than right now. Here. In this moment. With her.

Both their breathing had become heavy as he moved one hand away from her cheek and down to the nape of her neck, holding her head in place. The hand that had just been resting on the counter under his, suddenly found itself onto his wrist. While her other free hand rested upon his waist. They both began to lean in, eyeing each other’s lips like they were about to devour them.

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Was he really about to kiss the woman he _knew_ he was falling completely head over heels for?

His brain was screaming for him to stop. That whatever was happening between them was only going to end one way. Badly. And with people hurt. But his heart? It was yelling the complete opposite. It was telling him to go for it. To hell with Tripp. To hell with her mother. To hell with her family. His heart was telling him to just, for once, live in the moment.

“Ciara, are- are you su-”, he started to say before she placed her fingers on his lips and cut him off.

“Shhh...don’t say anything.” She uttered faintly, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment. This was it. Nothing would ever be the same between them after this.

As she let her fingers fall back down to his arm, he leaned his head down to hers so their foreheads pressed together ever so lightly. Their lips were now only mere millimeters away from touching, and he could feel his heart racing a million miles a minute, when all of a sudden, a loud buzzing noise echoed throughout the room. It was her phone.

“Shit! That’s...That’s my phone. I- I should probably- I should probably go get that.” She whimpered, her voice trembling, still in shock at what had almost just transpired between the two of them.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. I’ll just start buttering the bread.” He chattered, trying to diffuse some of the pent-up tension that was currently at an all-time high. Tension that would, once again, be left unresolved. Tension that would, once again, _not_ be released.

Saved by the bell, he thought.


	4. The One With The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long night of studying and needing to be alone with her thoughts for a while, Ciara seeks solace in the form of a shower. However, things take a rather steamy turn very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with Kay. A fun one. Enjoy.

Diary 4.

Sept. 1st. 2018. 

Ciara.

It was 11:15pm when, after three hours of working on an assignment for her economics class, she glanced at the neon green-lit clock across from her, above the stove top. Instead of her usual spot on the couch, she had opted for the kitchen island this time. Dozing off into a nap was far easier when she studied on the couch. The light was much harsher above the island as well, which helped keep her eyes open.

Swallowing the last gulp of coffee left in her mug, she looked at the progress she’d made on her assignment. Although she still had one or two more paragraphs left to write for it to be complete, she was more than satisfied with what she’d accomplished in the past three hours. She’d finish tomorrow. This boded well for her as she could feel her eyes slowly giving up on her anyway. They were starting to burn from staring at the bright laptop screen in front of her for so long.

“I think it’s time for bed.” She whispered to herself, bringing her empty mug to the sink. Next, she picked up the papers she had scattered a little bit everywhere on the counter, and closed her laptop shut. Every little movement seemed so loud, echoing through the entire loft. But that was probably due to the fact that other than Claire who was in her bedroom, she was the only one in the living area.

The loft was quiet. Unusually so. Ben had gone out for a run a little after she’d started studying and Tripp’s shift ended at 11:30. He wouldn’t be home until midnight. Ben, however. She had no clue when he’d be back. For the last two weeks now, he’d gone for a run every night. He said it helped him think. Clear his head. Therapeutic is what he'd called it, actually. He’d been gone a while, though. Usually, he was already back at this time, which only amplified her worry.

She thought of calling him, just to make sure he was okay. But then again, perhaps that wasn’t the greatest idea. After last night’s near kiss, she knew she had to be cautious around him. They’d never gotten that close before. That close to crossing so many lines. And even though she _knew_ it could never happen again, attempting to deny their fierce connection proved to be far more daunting.

She didn’t know how to explain it. But every time they were together, it was like all of the walls she’d worked so hard to build just...crumbled around her. Sometimes, all he had to do was look at her. One look and she was left completely defenseless. The pure, magnetic, and at times feral pull she felt towards him terrified her to no end. How could she feel so strongly about someone with such a horrifying past? She wasn’t sure how or even when it had happened, but she’d developed real feelings for him. _How_? How could she have let herself care so deeply for him?

It’s not like they could ever _actually_ work. It’s not like they could ever actually be together. And she was a fool if she thought otherwise. No. There’d be too many forces working against them. Tripp. Rafe. Her mom. Oh, her mother. She’d never stop. So, why would she want to put herself through all that heartbreak? No, thank you. She’d just have to find a way to shove these feelings down deep until they eventually, and calmly, left her system.

Everything was already so fucking complicated between them. Her newfound epiphany couldn’t have come at a worse time. She, too, needed to clear her head, it seemed. She thought she’d run herself a bath, but remembered she needed to wash her hair. A shower, then. A long one. She needed to... _not_ be here when he returned. He always came back gloriously sweaty, which was a very big problem for her. One time, he had come back without a shirt. She’d almost given in to him right then and there. Oh, God. Just the mere thought of him shirtless right now? Sweaty? Blood pumping through his body at an incredible speed, adrenaline still coursing through his veins? And after their heated moment from the night before? It was enough to send a delicious shock of pleasure right down to the apex between her thighs. She had no idea how she’d react to him at the moment or if she’d even be able to resist giving in to all these feelings flooding both her mind and her heart.

Well, one thing she _was_ certain of, was that she couldn’t be here when he returned. She couldn’t risk it this time.

With that, she shoved her notes and computer inside her book bag and headed for the bathroom, where she could be alone with her thoughts.

Once out of her clothes, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself for a few seconds. “What the hell are you doing? Get it together, girl. Things are going well with Tripp, and Ben- Ben is not an option for you. Not now...not _ever_.” Oh, wonderful, now she was talking to herself, too.

When her little naked pep talk was over, she peeped through the curtain and turned on the shower. She liked to let it run for at least a minute before getting in to allow the water to get really hot. When it had reached her preferred temperature, she hopped in.

Ciara let the water hit her neck and chest, reveling in the steam that had begun to rise. Some quiet. _Finally_. The only thing she had to focus on were the rhythmic beats of the water. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to exhale slowly, hoping that with each passing moment, the tightness in her lower belly at the thought of Ben running around shirtless would subside.

But instead, it was as if every breath further ignited the already present ember into a flame. Ciara could practically see the sweat gliding down his chiseled cheekbones right to that little spot on his neck that looked like it’d be really soft to kiss. She could hear his labored breathing, stemming from deep in his chest, coming out in huffs.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she remembered the feeling of his breath so close to her lips from yesterday. How utterly right it had felt to be that close to him...his long, agile fingers gripping her face firmly. Thinking about those fingers. Those hands. They were truly a work of art. Strong. Steady. Rough, but somehow still soft. And with her, gentle. _Always_. That day in the town square when she had tripped and he’d caught her with those hands. The way they had wrapped around her with such ease... what would it feel like to have them around her again? Those skilled fingers clinging to her waist, her stomach, below... a breathy sigh escaped before she could stop it. His name was on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t dare speak it out loud. If she did... it would somehow make everything... _real_. If she spoke his name, there’d be no stopping the feelings she felt tugging at her like an undertow wave. There’d be no stopping them from pulling her completely under.

“Ah”, she sighed quietly to herself, frustration and heat spreading through every limb, and not from the shower. Her hands moved down her stomach, thighs and back up again. But as her eyes closed, it became clear the true hands she craved. They were big, olive-toned, rough, and skilled...

A high-pitched whine escaped her throat. Ciara’s eyes popped open in shock — she’d never heard herself make a noise quite like that, not even when she’d, very experimentally, touched herself in the past. How could she be _this_ off balance at just the mere thought of his hands on her?!

“Get a grip, Ciara.” Her voice came out breathier than she’d expected.

“I think maybe you should try letting go, actually.” A deep, husky voice whispered from behind her directly into her ear. He smirked against her hair, and Ciara’s legs just about gave out as she felt Ben’s solid, tall frame behind her, his fingers dragging her hair to one side.

“Ben? What the — “, she stammered, leaning back against him was purely an accident. But her arm sliding back to grip his thigh, and his own wrapping around her stomach was definitely _not_.

“I know you feel it, too. This...electricity between us. This heat. This untamed, passionate wildfire that infiltrates and takes over each and every moment we share. I know you want t _his_. _Me_. So just let go, Ciara. For once in your life. Let yourself feel _everything_. Everything you’ve wanted to feel for the longest time.” He whispered into her ear again, inadvertently grazing it with his mouth, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“I- I don’t know what- what you’re talking about. Ben, I’m- I’m with Tripp, now. This can’t happen.” She uttered, her voice trembling. She wanted to stand her ground, but it was impossible. She melted around him. And even more so with both of them naked in this shower.

“Yeah? So, why is it happening, then?”, He shot back, turning her around, and finally crashing his lips to hers. This wasn’t the sweet, first kiss she had expected. This was frenzied. This was tempestuous. This was ecstasy. This was... _passion_. The all-consuming kind.

Weeks of pent-up tension and frustrations finally being released. Finally being let go into one, fierce kiss. It wasn’t long before his tongue found hers, as he grabbed her chin, clearly motioning for her to open her mouth wider. She did as he wanted, and soon found herself being backed up into the wall. She let her hands travel from his lower back all the way up to the nape of his neck, holding his face in place.

It wasn’t until they were both violently out of breath that Ciara came up for air, breaking their fervent kiss. “Ben”, she moaned, not really understanding just _what_ exactly was happening between them at that very moment. That didn’t stop him. He ravaged her neck next. Leaving a trail of languid kisses up and down the thin, sensitive flesh, he brought her arms up, pinning them at the wrists above her head. She let her head fall back, exposing her neck to him even more. “Ben!”, she cried out, needing him to react this time. “I- I...maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe we should- maybe we sh-should s-stop.” She interjected, her increased heart rate causing her to slur her words.

“Do you _want_ me to stop, Ciara? Just say the word. I’ll leave this shower and never bring it up again. So? What will it be? Do I stop?” He posed, truthfully.

Although she already knew the answer to that question, she still felt she needed to at least _pretend_ to want to stop.

“No. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” She whispered, softly.

With that, he continued his delectable journey down her body, dipping lower to her breasts now. Letting go of her wrists, he put his hands to better use, grabbing both breasts in each hand. “Do you have any idea just how goddamn beautiful you are? Do you have any idea just how completely mesmerized I am by you?”, he said, his tone growing more wonton by the second. That’s when he placed his mouth over one of her nipples and sucked. The swirling motion of his tongue alone was enough to make her knees give out. Luckily, his strong hands held her up.

“You. Are. _Intoxicating_.” He admitted, looking up at her, as he got on his knees and starting leaving gentle kisses on her stomach.

“I- I want you to touch me, Ben.” Ciara whimpered.

“ _Where_ do you want me to touch, Ciara? You need to tell me where.” He smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Everywhere”, she replied, hoping he’d just cave and get on with it. “More specific, Ciara.” He continued to tease.

“I want you to touch me...here.” She answered, timidly, pointing at the currently highly-aroused area between her thighs.

“Much better.” The look in his eye was downright devilish, that of pure, carnal desire.

He maneuvered himself down her body in the most sensual way possible, until his head aligned perfectly with the apex below her navel. Before she could even try to process a single thought, his tongue was on her.

“Ahhhh!”, she cried out in total and complete rapture. The sensation of his hot mouth on her like this sent a shockwave to every nerve ending her body possessed. She didn’t know how much longer she’d last, feeling her orgasm nearing already. Instinctively, she let her hands fall to his head, and ran them through his raven-colored hair, pushing him closer to her. Taking the hint, he grabbed her right leg and draped it over his shoulder, granting him deeper access.

“Ben, I- I'm so close.” She moaned, as he dipped his tongue lower, licking _up_ and _down_ , always making sure to return to the sensitive nub, which would soon be her undoing. That’s when he swiftly slipped two fingers inside of her. She swore she saw stars. His thrusting was slow at first, but quickly picked up speed, becoming relentless in a matter of seconds.

The escalating tension that’d been building deep inside of her, culminating into what felt like a ball of fire right below her belly, was finally about to explode when suddenly, the sound of violent knocking on the door forced Ciara's eyes open. The knocking was accompanied by a shrill, familiar voice.

_Fuck_. She’d been dreaming. And touching herself. Ben wasn’t here. He’d never been. But everything had seemed so deliciously real. So visceral. So exhilarating.

“Ciara! You’ve been in there for like an hour! You're not the only one who needs to take a shower. By the time you get out, there won’t be any hot water left for me _or_ Ben, who just got back and looks like he'll definitely need it. And as I recall, we _all_ pay for the hot water, here. Not just you. Let’s go!”, Claire yelled from the other side of the door.

Oh, fantastic. Just what she needed. Claire and her never-ending annoying self. And Ben. Probably shirtless. And sweaty. Never mind the fact that she’d literally just had her first sex dream ever. Never mind the fact that it had been about her ex-serial killer roommate. Never mind the fact that she wished it hadn’t been a dream. _Lovely_.

Here she was, breathless, water running down her naked body, just trying to recuperate after that. Had she really been in there for that long? God, this night needed to be over.

“Relax. I’m- I’m almost done. Be out in five.” She yelled back, just loud enough to be heard over the water. After turning off the shower, she grabbed a towel. Drying herself as quickly as she could, she stepped out, grabbed a hairbrush from the drawer and practically ran out of the bathroom, never once looking in front.

“Ciara, hey! Shit, sorry. You okay?”, she heard Ben say as she clumsily crashed into him on her way out. She could feel his hands on her waist, but his focused gaze on her own was what caught her attention, rendering her unable to pull out of his embrace.

Just one look. And she was putty.

“Omg! I am so sorry, Ben. I thought Claire was here and she had me stressed about getting out and I- I wasn’t looking where I was going. I totally clobbered you. Are you okay?”, she said, apologizing profusely, her hands having somehow found themselves against his very naked chest.

“No need for apologies. I am more than okay, Ciara.” He said, laughing. “And besides...You can clobber me anytime.” He added, softly and sweetly, making her blush.

“Okay, then. Good to know, Weston.” She said, smiling.

Realizing they were still in a rather intimate embrace, Ben swiftly let go of her waist and attempted to change the subject. “So, one step inside the loft, and Claire was already yelling at me to go take a shower. I don’t think I can ever win with her.” He explained, remarking on Claire’s candid attitude.

“Don’t worry about it. That’s just- Claire being...Claire. It’s been 22 years and I still haven’t won with her.” She scoffed, annoyed at her niece’s blatant rudeness.

“How was your run?” Ciara inquired.

“Great. Invigorating.” He retorted.

“Helped you...think? Clear your head?”, she asked.

“Sure did. Mind is clear. Clearer than it's ever been, right now.” He asserted, staring deeply into her eyes.

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, she felt a shift. The tension that had been bubbling, just surfacing, was now skyrocketing. Why was that phrase so goddamn sexy? And why had it sounded much more meaningful than intended? Maybe it was because his gaze had officially left her eyes and relocated to her lips, causing her to swallow hard.

God, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she was practically naked. Her damp hair was pushed to one side, the wetness making tiny strands stick to her neck, while only a tiny piece of linen covered her body, making this encounter all the more compromising.

“Well, good night, then.” Ciara concluded, needing this conversation to be over before she conceded and let him have his way with her right there on the kitchen counter.

“Good night, Ciara.” He replied, gliding his body dangerously close to hers as he passed in front, entering the bathroom.

When the door finally closed, she took a long, exhausted breath, as if she’d been underwater. How could she ever look him in the eye again after that ordeal? What's more, none of it had felt wrong. Even though it _should_ have felt wrong, it hadn't. Nothing had ever felt _more_ right in her whole life.

She knew this would only end one way. Badly.


	5. The One With The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ben overhears a heated phone call between Ciara and Tripp, well-intentioned, he takes a leap of faith and speaks his mind. Words are had. Some that can never be taken back.

Diary 4.

Sept. 3rd. 2018. 

Ben.

It was around 9:30 in the evening when Ben heard Ciara talking on the phone in a raised voice. Whoever she was talking to, they were clearly going back and forth, and not in a good way.

“Yeah, well we had said seven, and it’s almost ten! Where the hell are you?!”, he heard her screech from her room. She probably had plans with someone who bailed, he thought.

“This is getting old, Tripp. And I'm getting tired of your excuses. If you don’t want to hang out, that’s fine, just stop with the lying.” She trailed.

Fuck. She was yelling at Tripp. Not that he cared. And with everything she confided in him during their time at the cabin, that guy clearly couldn’t be trusted. However, she _did_ sound hurt, which, on the other hand, he cared very much about.

“I- I don’t know. I decided to let you back in after my accident and after Claire, and I’m not so sure that- maybe I shouldn’t have, Tripp.” She continued, her tone changing from anger to disappointment.

There was a moment of silence before she started talking again.

“What I’m saying is...I think I need some time. To think. About what I really want.” She concluded, softly.

He heard silence again. She had probably hung up. He kind of felt like a little bit of an asshole for having overheard. Then again, there wasn't anywhere else he could go. He was in the living room, getting ready to go out for a run, and then to work on her bike. She still had no idea he had picked it up from the garage where they’d told her it was totaled and as good as trash. But he knew better. He’d spent a lot of his younger years being a grease monkey with Clyde, and he knew that garages sometimes lied to be able to resell parts.

So, wanting to be sure it wasn’t totally dead, he’d rented a storage unit, picked up the bike without her knowing, and gave it a good inspection. It turned out he was right. It had been almost three weeks now since he’d begun fixing it and he was almost done. Although he did intend to repay her in full for everything, he was kind of tight on money at the moment. This was the best he could do given his current predicament.

As he got to tying his sneakers, he heard the door to her room open. She was wearing a pair of jeans with a black top that fell at the shoulders. She was...as beautiful as ever.

“Hey! You heading out? Your nightly run I suppose?”, she asked.

“Yeah. I was just gonna-”, he began to say, but lingered instead, giving her a sure-you’re-okay kind of look. She moved closer to where he was standing near the couch.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”, Ciara chimed, amusedly.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I just- I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Tripp. Everything okay? You sounded pretty angry.” Ben admitted.

Her face flushed immediately. Shit. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed her. He was starting to think maybe he shouldn’t have said anything and just gone on his run. This conversation could only end horribly.

“Oh, god. You heard that? These walls really are paper thin, huh?”, she replied.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but do you...wanna talk about it?”, he asked.

“Um...Not really, no. And even if I wanted to, I just- I don’t think that this is something I’d want to discuss with you.” She answered, sternly. "Not that you're not a fantastic listener...you are...I just- I don't think it would be appropriate."

Yeah, _this_ was his cue to leave. Now. Before they both said things they couldn’t take back. Even though every single fiber of his being was screaming at him to grab his earphones and run for the door, his feet didn't move. For some reason, he just couldn’t _not_ see this conversation through to the end. His brain and his heart were locked in a death match. And the latter was winning.

“Yeah. You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Just- how do you know he isn't going to hurt you again? Like he did before? Ciara, he broke your heart once. Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”, Ben intimated, finally speaking his mind about Tripp. Perhaps too much of it.

She advanced even closer until they were just within arm’s reach. Fuck. He’d definitely struck a nerve.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”, she stormed.

"Nothing. But, with everything you told me about him, I just know that he’s not necessarily the most stand-up guy." Ben muttered.

“Oh, and you are? Forgive me if I’m not exactly sold on your take of what it means to be a 'stand- up guy'. And I’d like it if you stopped pretending you know anything about my relationship.” she fumed, crossing her arms against her chest.

The jabs kept coming. She was unleashing what was probably weeks’ worth of pent-up frustration about him and about their peculiar situation. Everything she’d been wanting to say but couldn't because of their even weirder, kismet-like connection. There was _something_ between them and he knew she hated it.

“I only know what you told me, Ciara. I’m not trying to do anything. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.” He cited, apologetically.

“Actually, you know what I’d really like? For you to stop trying to meddle in my private life. What happens between me and Tripp is none of your business and frankly, I don’t really appreciate your accusatory tone towards him.” Ciara sneered back, defensively.

“I just- I don’t want to see you get hurt. I want to have your back. The same way you’ve had mine these past weeks.” He confessed.

“Well, don’t. I’m a big girl.” She asserted, all the while maintaining her irritated glare towards him.

“Okay. I- I just thought that-”

“You thought what!? What is it that you thought, exactly, Ben? That I’d- I’d dump Tripp and come running into your arms like some fairytale?!”, she snarked, her voice escalating. “This _isn’t_ a fairytale. I'm _not_ some princess who needs to be rescued over and over again. And _you’re_ certainly not the prince who needs to do it.”

She was right. This _wasn’t_ a fairytale. This was real life. And there was no guarantee of a happy ending. Not for him anyway.

“I’m trying to look out for you, that’s all.” Ben expressed, his concern genuine.

“Yeah, well, I don't need someone who _murdered_ four people to look out for me!”, she shouted, the truth in her words leaving cuts and bruises in their wake. “And I certainly don’t need his relationship advice either.”

She'd just torn through him like a sword. Her reiteration of the crushing reality of his past left a nasty, hemorrhaging gash on his heart.

“No. No, you’re absolutely right. I’m a monster. A vile animal who did unforgivable things. And that’s all I’ll ever be. No point in beating around the bush, right? It’s okay to admit it, Ciara. Deep down, it’s how you see me. It’s how _everyone_ sees me.” He said, softly, with a dejected tone.

He’d be lying if he said her words hadn’t just completely eviscerated him, not that he thought he deserved anything less. Who the hell was he kidding? He’d never escape his past and the things he’d done. And to think he could was foolish and naïve. The only thing that had kept him going these last few weeks had been her unwavering belief in him. He knew everyone was always going to think the worst of him. He just hadn't thought that included _her_ as well.

“Ben, I-”, she started to say, the instant regret in her voice evident.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll never bring it up again, okay? It wasn’t my place anyway. I’m gonna go. Good night, Ciara. I hope everything works out the way you want it to. You deserve the world. Don’t ever let anyone make you think otherwise." He shot her a despondent smile. "I’ll pack my stuff when I get back and I’ll be gone in the morning.” He said, knowing he should have never agreed to stay there in the first place.

“Ben, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t even know how I'll ever be able to repay you. But I think we both know that I- I don’t belong here, Ciara. To be honest, I don’t think I belong _anywhere_...and I’m starting to think that I never will.” He avowed, completely devastated.

With that, he headed for the door, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision, and hoped running would make him forget the last five minutes ever happened.


	6. The One With The Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their tense fight, Ben's adamant about leaving the loft and getting out of Ciara's life for good. But when she walks in on him trying to sneak out at dawn, will he go back on his word?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did something different here. This diary switches from Ben and Ciara's POVs, as I wanted the apology to be felt and understood through both POVs.

Diary 6. 

Sept 4th. 2018.

Ben and Ciara.

_“Yeah, well, I don't need someone who murdered four people to look out for me!”_

Ciara’s painfully honest words ran through _Ben’s_ mind on an endless loop as he tried to get some sleep. He hadn’t been able to get their fight out of his head. Instead, he’d spent the entire night trying to dissect every last beat of it. His run hadn’t given him the release he had hoped it would. Usually, the adrenaline helped him think. Helped him let go of his frustrations. This time it had done neither. 

He reached for his phone on the coffee table to check what time it was. Christ...It wasn’t even 5 am yet. He was a complete wreck and it was only 4:35. When he’d gotten back to the loft last night, it had been close to midnight and thankfully, Ciara had already retired to her room. By the time she’d be awake again, he’d be gone. Out of her life. Forever. He had packed all of his belongings as soon as he’d returned from his run. 

As much as he didn’t want to walk out of her life, he knew this was for best. The truth was, she would never really... _truly_ feel safe around him. And he couldn’t even blame her. How could he? 

Hope wasn’t something he’d had a lot of in the past couple of years. Hell, in his whole lifetime. Yet, her fierce belief in him and his innocence had produced just a tiny sliver of it. But that tiny sliver he’d had of turning his life around had disappeared as quickly as it had come when she’d unleashed those gut-wrenching words. 

Her words had reminded him of something. His past. And how he would never escape it. It would always be there, lurking quietly, but _closely_ , in the background. 

But when he was with her, his past didn't feel so close behind. It felt more like some sort of distant memory...from another life. Every time they were together, it was like...It was like the world faded away. She was the first person to ever really make him feel...seen. For the first time in his life, he could just be...Ben. 

Every time she smiled...every time she laughed. God, he could feel his love for her growing by the second. A love he had absolutely no right in feeling. She was the commissioner’s daughter for fuck’s sake. 

He had to go. It was the only way they could both get on with their lives. 

* * *

When _Ciara_ heard the rumbling noise coming from the other side of her door, she put on the old, worn hoodie that had been laying on the edge of her bed and headed for the living room. It was Ben. Who seemed to be in a weird hurry. 

“Ben? What are- What are you doing? It’s like 6am.” Ciara asked him as he walked to the loft door. Shit. He had all of his things with him. Had he decided to leave for real? 

“Ciara, last night when I said I’d be gone in the morning, I meant it. It’s clear I’m not wanted here.” He said, the ache in his voice tearing at her heartstrings. "I’m sure the shelter will have room for me. It’s no big deal. I’ll figure it out.” 

“Ben...”, she started to say, before he cut her off. 

“I’m- I’m only a burden and that’s unfair to you. I’m not your problem. And- and I don’t want to be. I need a fresh start, Ciara. And it’s become painfully obvious that it won’t be here, in Salem.” 

Without saying another word, she looked at him, with both a fierceness and softness that made his heart do a double take. 

Taking one final glance at her, as if for the last time, she saw him hasten for the door. And even though her brain was screaming at her to let him go. To let him walk out of her life, once and for all. Her heart was telling a different story. She just... _couldn't_ let him leave. Not like this. Not after what'd happened just mere hours ago. It didn't feel right. And well, if she was being honest with herself, she didn't want him to.

Quickly, she rushed over to him and grabbed ahold of his arm. 

“Ben! Just... Wait!. Hear me out.” She implored. 

“There’s nothing left to say, Cia-”, he retorted, his back still to her.

“Please!”, she pleaded, earnestly. “I don’t- I don’t want you to go, okay?” 

Unable to deny her plea, slowly, he started to turn around, and almost immediately, she loosened the tight grip she'd had on the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Look, I- I was angry. And hurt. And I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that. I said some...cruel things, Ben. I feel horrible.” She professed.

Suddenly, he was facing her again, his eyes, filled with torment and despair. Her harsh words had affected him, deeply. She wish she'd never said them. And she prayed they wouldn't set him back on his road to recovery. 

* * *

Finally facing her again, he paused before speaking, taking a second to collect his thoughts.

Even though, he knew that the second he'd turn to look at her, he’d cave. In a heartbeat. It didn't matter what she'd say, he’d give in. And stay. And staying would only mean one thing. Falling even more in love with her than he already was. 

Her face was wrecked with anguish. Their fight had clearly upset her. 

“The things you said, Ciara...they weren’t cruel. They were... the truth. I need to face that. Better I do it now than later.” He admitted. 

“But...They won’t always be your _only_ truth, Ben.” She went on. 

“I used to think that. I was hopeful for a little while there, but after our fight last night, I’m- I’m not so sure anymore.” Ben replied, defeated. 

“Hey...Look at me!” She exclaimed, as she grabbed him by the arms yet again, determined to get her point across this time. ”What I said to you last night? I _know_ that’s not who you are anymore, okay?”, she reiterated, passionately, not once letting her intense gaze leave his. 

“I was furious at Tripp. And I didn’t like what you were saying about him because, well, everything you were saying was...true. He _has_ hurt me once before... _Badly_...So, who’s to say he won’t do it again, you know? I just- I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m confused. And I let it get the best of me last night. I’m sorry. I’d take it all back if I could.” She said, the sincerity of her words dawning on him. 

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place, really. Your relationship is none of my business. I should've just stayed in my lane.” He said, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit. 

"No, Ben. Don't say that. Contrary to what I might have said last night, I really do appreciate you looking out for me. And I believed you when you said you'd never hurt me. That hasn't changed, has it?", she uttered, softly.

"Of course not. When I said that I'd never hurt you, Ciara, it was the god's honest truth. And...it's as true now, as it was the first time I told you back at the cabin." He professed.

She shot him a tender smile. And just like that, he felt the energy in the loft shift. The same one he always felt when they were alone. The same one he always felt when his gaze lingered longer than it should. The same one he always felt when a moment suddenly meant so much more than it should. 

At the same time, he also realized her hands were _still_ gently resting on his forearms. She'd realized, too, as she shyly let his arms go.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn't come. Truth was, he didn't really know where they went from here. 

"For the love of god, Ben, will you please put your bag down. You're not still leaving are you?", she posed, worriedly.

He laughed.

"You really want me to stay?" He inquired, amusedly. 

"Yeah. I really want you to stay. For as long as you need. Well, until you can get back on your feet. It's the least I can do. I mean, you literally saved my life." She said, genuinely.

With that, he did as she asked and let his bag fall to the floor, finally letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in for the past ten minutes. "Alright, then. I'll stay."

"Good. I'm glad." She said, with a cheeky smirk.

"But! _Just_ until I can find a job and save up enough to start paying my own rent." He chimed.

"That's fair, Weston." She replied, grabbing his bag from off the floor and bringing it back next to the couch, causing him to chuckle.

"There. Much Better." She continued, as she clumsily attempted to stuff his duffel underneath the coffee table.

God, he swore his heart skipped a beat everytime she called him by his last name.

This was not good.

He was in trouble. _So_ much trouble. 


	7. The One With All The Tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ben comes home from an afternoon spent working on the bike, the only thing on his mind is a hot shower and sleep. Instead, Ciara suggests pizza and tequila. But things escalate quickly when Ciara bites off more than she can chew and soon begins to spill her heart's deepest, darkest secrets.

Diary 7. The One With All The Tequila. 

Sept. 6th. 2018. 

Ben. 

It was nearing 8 pm when Ben checked his phone. He’d been at the storage unit working on Ciara’s bike since noon.

It was almost done. A few more hours and it’d be ready to hit the road again. He couldn’t wait to show her. He knew how important this bike was and how much meaning it held. This bike was a piece of her dad and having it was like he was still with her somehow. He had seen how utterly devastated she’d been when the shops had told her it couldn’t be fixed. The look in her eyes had been haunting. It was like he’d witnessed a small piece of her soul die. _That_ was when he'd decided he had to do something. 

Although he was aware that this, in no way, equated him _actually_ paying her back all the money she’d spent on his lawyer or for letting him live at the loft rent free. But, it was s _omething_. A gesture. One he hoped would make her aware of the magnitude of his appreciation. The enormity of his gratitude. 

He’d been at this for almost eight hours now and he was beat. And starving.

“Okay, that’s enough for today.” He muttered to himself.

He’d come back tomorrow to finish. Putting the wrench down next to the other tools, he grabbed his phone, and headed for the door, making sure to lock it on his way out.

* * *

It was 8:25 when he'd arrived at the loft, and after a few seconds of fumbling with the key, he finally got the door opened. It was eerily quiet. And dark. No lights were on in the kitchen. The loft was... _unusually_ quiet for 8:30 on a Friday night.

Claire pretty much always had friends over and well, Ciara and Tripp usually ordered takeout and spent the evening watching netflix. 

He was beginning to think maybe they'd all decided to go out. That's when he heard rumbling coming from Ciara's room. 

"Ciara?", he called out. No answer. "Ciara, you there?", he asked once more. Still, no answer. Something felt... _off_. He gently placed his keys and phone down on the counter, and slowly treaded towards her room, trying to be as quiet as possible.

When he heard footsteps approaching, he brought his hands up in the air, ready to attack if needed. 

"Jesus Christ!", she screamed as she came out her room, frightened.

"Shit! Ciara, I'm so sorry." He apologized, bringing his arms back down.

"Ben! Oh my god, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!", she shouted, her hand over her chest, breathless. 

"I- I thought someone was in here." He tried to explain.

"Yeah, me!", she chuckled.

"No, I mean I- all the lights were off, and I called you several times, but there was no answer. I just thought someone had...broken in or something." He continued.

"Oh...Well, no one broke in. I'm fine. Everything is good." She confirmed.

"I really didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry." He said, giving her shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Just a little jumpy. But, I'd rather have a roomate ready to spring into action than one who'd run away scared." She admitted, shooting him a quick smile, and returning the gentle shoulder squeeze. 

"You really didn't hear me call you just now?", he asked. 

"I had my headphones on." Ciara said, pointing to her ears.

"Oh, well suddenly everything makes sense." He said, jokingly. 

"So...where have _you_ been all afternoon?", she teasingly inquired.

Shit. He had to think of something and quick. He couldn't say he was out jogging. She'd never buy it. Who the fuck goes jogging for eight hours?

"I thought I'd drop off more resumés." He replied. Good enough. 

"Oh, okay. Any luck?", Ciara probed some more.

"Well, I haven't heard anything yet. But at least they didn't immediately throw my cv in the trash this time. So, progress." He snickered. 

He noticed the lights were still off, so he walked to the door and adjusted the dimmer switch just a little. At the same time, Ciara walked to the fridge and took the brita filter out. She was wearing a black sundress that highlighted her curves in the most beautiful way. Her hair was untied, messy, and fell across her face in a way that made her emerald eyes stand out even more. _Effortless_ beauty. 

God, she looked absolutely stunning in this warm, dimmed light. She was practically glowing.

He, on the other hand, needed to get out of these clothes. Turning his gaze away from her, he walked towards the couch and grabbed his bag. Her back was still to him, so, quickly, he pulled his dirty shirt over his head and searched for another one. By the time he'd found one, though, she'd turned around and was fully staring. 

"Um, sorry 'bout that. I didn't mean to make you feel weird, I just- I practically jogged back here from the Horton square and my shirt was...well, it needed to be changed." He admitted, laughing through his words. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it. I mean, it's nothing I haven't seen before at this point." She brazenly said, which was, technically correct. She _had_ caught him shirtless a couple of times before. 

"Right." He whispered, aware that every time she _did_ see him in a state of undress, the tension between them only amplified. "This is true."

Their eyes remained locked across the room for a few seconds, just... _lingering_ , always way longer than they should.

"So, I was thinking of ordering pizza. Tripp took an extra shift at the café and Claire is sleeping at a friend's house, making it just us, tonight. You in?", she asked.

"I'm starving actually. Pizza sounds great." He beamed.

"Oh, and don't I have just the cheekiest idea! To celebrate no one turning you away today, how about we do pizza with a twist?", she said, with a devilish grin.

What the hell did she have in mind?

Still standing from across the room near the coffee table, he saw her disappear behind the kitchen island. He could hear the sound of glass bottles rumbling. When she reappeared, a bottle of El Jimador was now in her hand. " _Tequila!_ ", she shouted, with the biggest smile on her face.

She wanted...to drink? And liquor, no less. As much as he wanted to, Marlena had advised him not to mix alcohol with his meds, especially right now, given that he was trying out a new dosage regimen. She had told him that one drink wouldn't be harmful, but to not exceed that, since it could potentially reduce or alter the efficacy of the meds. 

"Tequila, huh? Although I'd _love_ to, I'm not really supposed to be drinking. Dr. Evans strongly advised against it, on account of my meds. It could mess up the way they- well, the way they help me." He explained.

"Oh, right. Wow, how incredibly insensitive of me. I'm sorry...I never even thought about that whole aspect of it." She said, her voice contrite. The embarrassment she was feeling was evident, as her face flushed. 

"No, don't say that. I mean it's not like I expected you to know the do's and don'ts of anti-psychosis medications. I _can_ have _one_ shot, though. To toast **.** But, that's my limit." He maintained.

"You sure? I don't want to make you do somethi-", Ciara began to say, but he stopped her in her tracks. He wouldn't have her feeling bad about this, of all things. 

"Ciara...It's fine. One drink won't affect anything." Ben reassured her.

"Alright, then. Let's toast!" She quipped, as she took out two shot glasses from the cabinet and poured the amber liquid into them. Once filled, she handed one to him and raised her own.

"To new beginnings!", she declared.

"To new beginnings." He repeated, meaning _every_ word...more than he'd ever before. He hoped that this time, they'd be true for him. They lightly clinked their glasses before downing the liquor. 

This should be interesting. 

* * *

It was nearing 10 pm when he noticed Ciara quickly ignore a text and grab the bottle from off the table, pouring them two more shots. Even though they had agreed that one would be his limit, once the tequila had begun to flow in her system, all bets were off.

Every time she took one, she'd insist he take one with her. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, he obliged. However, he wouldn't actually take the shots. He'd pretend to, and instead would toss them in the poor plant that sat next to the couch. Hopefully it was still alive by morning.

But Ciara? Oh, she was absolutely _hammered_. 

"Okay, okay, okay! Let's do- do one more. J-just one more. And then...th-that's it." Ciara slurred, her words becoming more and more incoherent by the minute. It had been...a _while_ since that first shot. How many had she taken and he'd tossed again? Eight? Or was it nine? He'd lost count. One thing he did know, though, was that she'd definitely had enough. He needed to get that bottle away from her before she passed out. 

"I- I think you've had enough, don't you?", he informed her, gently taking the bottle from her hands and bringing it to the kitchen counter before returning to his spot on the couch. 

"No. I- I think I've had p-plenty. But enough? I- I don't think s- so. And you've had th-the same amount. H- How come you're not even a l-little bit tipsy? W-What is this sorcery, Weston?", she stammered. 

"Not sorcery, just...strong genes. It takes _a lot_ for me to even begin feeling lightheaded and If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were purposely trying to get me drunk just now." He answered her, boldly, and maybe a little too flirtatiously. 

"Y- You got me. Guilty as charged. It's just that I- I don't know m-much about you. I only know what you told me at the cabin. I- I thought maybe liquoring you up would do the trick to open...the floodgates." She snickered, coyly.

"Ah, I see. It's funny you say that because a woman I dated tried to get me drunk once, perhaps for the same reason you did just now. But her attempt was horribly executed with... _wine coolers._ You know? The ones that are practically safe to drink while pregnant? Needless to say, by night's end, I had to bring her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. I, of course, was cool as a cucumber." He explained,

"Moral of the story. Women should never try to get me drunk. It never works. I guess I just have a stronger tolerance than most people." He said, concluding his anecdote. 

They both let out a few laughs. 

"Haha, I g-guess it's a good thing we're not dating, then." She blurted out.

"What?", he retorted in disbelief, not knowing if he'd heard her right.

"I mean, c-could you imagine? Us? Together? H-How would that even work?", she giggled softly, the alcohol in her system making her completely unaware of the true weight her words beared. "No one would _ever_ let us hear the end of it. Rafe. My brother. My mom. Oh god, my mom. She'd be livid." 

Shocked at everything she was saying, he took a second to look at her. 

"C-Come on, Ben. Let's stop avoiding the elephant in the room, here. There's c-clearly... _something_ between us." She confessed.

He swallowed. Hard. He wasn't sure if she was actually being serious or if this was just the tequila talking, but his chest suddenly tightened. He could barely breathe.

What was the saying again?, he thought. A drunk mind speaks a _sober heart_.

"Ciara, I think- I think you've had a lot to drink and-", he muttered, before she cut him off.

"This isn't t-the liquor, Ben! Don't you get it? This is...me. _._.Finally admitting to myself what I have b-been _terrified_ to say for some time. I- I have been so scared of my own f-feelings." She said, her voice jumping in octaves.

"We- we have this... _connection_ that I d-don't understand and that I've never felt before...and it scares me, Ben. Y-You scare me. Whatever _this_ is...whatever I feel for you...it scares the living shit out of me. And I've tried to mash it down. To avoid it. But I- I can't. Not a-anymore. It's undeniable. Y-You are undeniable...And I just- I can't seem to shake you. No matter what I do." Ciara blindly confessed, as she got up from the couch, where she'd been sitting, with nothing but a coffee table separating them, and walked towards him. 

He remained where he was, not really knowing what she was doing.

"Do- Do you _want_ to shake me?", he asked, not caring if she was being sincere or not anymore. If she was offering up answers to questions he'd been having for weeks now, he was sure as hell gonna take them.

Now in front of him, he stood as well, brushing against her own body in the process. He _towered_ over her smaller stature. 

"I- I don't know, Ben. I did at the beginning, but now, I'm not so sure anymore." She disclosed. The next thing he knew, she'd placed both of her hands on his face, bringing his forehead down to hers.

"All I know is...this feels... _right_." She whispered, before going in for the kiss. 

Before her lips could touch his, he pulled away, almost instinctively so. This was all _kinds_ of wrong.

"Ciara, you're- you're drunk. We can't. Not like this. Do you even know what you're doing right now?", he questioned her. "You're blood is like 95% tequila at the moment and I won't-"

Before he could say anything else, he noticed her cover her mouth.

"Oh, I- I think I'm gonna-", she said as she ran to the bathroom.

* * *

The sounds of aggressive heaving filled the bathroom with rather unpleasant acoustics. Thank god she'd made it to the toilet in time, or he'd probably be _mopping_ her up off the floor right now. He'd never seen someone so violently ill before. Holding up her hair with one hand, he used the other to rub her back. 

"D-Don't look at m-me. Look away!", she whimpered, embarrassed. 

"Ciara, just three months ago, I was setting your _femur_ back into place. I think I can handle a little vomit." He retorted, refusing to leave her side. 

Once she'd finished expelling every last bit of what had been in her stomach, he helped her sit up against the side of the bath.

"Here." He spoke softly, handing her a wet hand towel so she could wipe her mouth. 

"Ugh, I am _never_ drinking again." She murmured, as she slowly began to sober up. 

"Well, tequila _will_ do that to ya. It _sounds_ good in the moment. In the end, though, it always betrays you." Ben affirmed, with a subtle laugh.

"Yes, exactly. And it always _feels_ good in the moment, too. But then, the second you go too far, the second you cross that invisible line, it's nothing but darkness." She went on.

He shifted his position, so he was kneeling against the sink, while taking in her words, digesting every single one. 

"But not everything that feels good _in the moment_ , should be done, I guess. Cause it's...it's nothing but a fleeting feeling, really? It has an- an expiry date. A...", she trailed.

"A time limit." He concluded, knowing full well they weren't talking about tequila anymore. He wondered if this was about him. Them. Their connection. Would it be fleeting as well? Did it have a time limit? Did _they_ have an expiry date? 

It was a hard pill to swallow, but the truth was, was that he had no right to expect _anything_ from her. The mere fact that she'd let him be in her life as long as she had was enough for him. And if him being in her life ended up only being transitory...and only for a brief moment in time...then that would be it. And he would always be grateful. 

"Yes. A time limit." She said, agreeing with his statement. With that, he saw her eyes close and her body start to slip. She needed her bed or she'd be two seconds away from spending the night on the cold, marble floor.

"No, no, no, Ciara. Hey, stay with me. We gotta get you to bed." He pleaded, his hand on her shoulder. 

"The floor is good." She mumbled, half asleep. 

"Yeah, maybe, if you want to wake up with the worst neck kink the world has ever seen. Come on, let me help you up." He said in a hushed tone. He tried to get her standing, but it was no use. She was already deadweight. He was gonna have to carry her to bed. 

"Okay, let's go, sleepy head." He chuckled, as he swooped down to pick her up into his arms, placing one hand underneath her thighs and the other at the small of her back. In one swift move, they were both up and he started walk towards her room. 

Once inside her room, he strategically undid her bed cover, while he still had her in his arms. Gently, he placed her on the bed. Before tucking her in, he took off the sandals she'd been wearing. As he pulled the sheets over her body, he noticed a messy strand of hair over her face and unable to help himself, he brushed it aside, tucking it behind her ear. "There. Much, much better." He quietly said to himself. 

"Ciara, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm just- I'm gonna leave this bad boy right here in case...in case you need to hurl again, okay?", he whispered, as he placed her pink trash can next to her bedside, hoping she wasn't completely out yet.

He began to walk away when he felt her hand grab ahold of his wrist.

"Wait...Don't- Don't go, please. I don't want to be alone, tonight." She murmured.

Jesus. She was...making this extremely difficult.

"I don't know, Ciara. Tripp could be home any minute now, and I just- I don't think he'd appreciate finding me in your room." He pointed out. 

"Tripp isn't coming home tonight. He texted earlier. He's out drinking with some friends and is crashing at one of their houses." Ciara explained. "He won't be here until tomorrow afternoon."

Her sleepy gaze was on him.

"Okay. I'll stay here with you. But, _not_ on the bed...on this little couch you have here. Until you fall asleep." He replied.

"Deal. Thank you." She smiled.

Once she let go of his wrist, he took all of two steps to get to the small couch near her dresser. The time it took to leave her side and sit down, she had already fallen back asleep. 

Finally, he let out a deep, anxious breathe. _So_ much had just happened in the past five minutes. Things he hadn't even begun to process. And...Who even knew if she'd remember any of this in the morning.

Although, for now, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and pray to god she _did_. 


	8. The One With The Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagued with the world's worst hangover, A foggy Ciara attempts to piece together the events of the night before.

Diary 8.

Sept. 7th. 2018.

Ciara.

It was 10 minutes past 8 am when the sensation of a cruel pounding around her temples woke her. Holy shit. This was...a bad one. Even worse than the hangover she'd experienced this past new year's. God, just _how_ much had she had to drink last night? However much it was, her body was definitely feeling the repercussions at the moment.

Getting up from her bed, slowly, she looked over to see that Ben was asleep in the sofa chair across from her. What was he doing there? Had he brought her to her room? Had he...taken care of her? 

He was good at that, she thought. Memories of their time at the cabin suddenly flooded her mind.

Well, s _omeone_ had clearly put her to bed because all she _could_ remember at the moment was...attempting to lie down on the bathroom floor? And Tripp had never come home. Neither had Claire. It had to have been Ben. That still didn't explain how he had ended up in her chair. 

Ugh, why couldn't she remember anything else? What an absolute mess she had gotten herself into. Why had she even suggested drinking in the first place? And tequila, no less? They could have just had a beer and been done with it.

A swift and sudden wave of nausea hit at the thought of alcohol. But, with a lot of concentration, and a few hard swallows, she managed to avoid _anything_ coming back up.

She shuddered when Ben shifted unexpectedly in the chair, realizing she was still in her dress from last night. She was thankful he'd taken off her sandals, though, saving her from an ugly foot ache. Walking towards him, she debated whether she should wake him up or not. His head had fallen to the side, resting soundly against the headrest of the chair, while one of his arms lay flat against his stomach. The other hung from the armrest. Although he'd be sore from pretty much everywhere from sleeping in that position, he looked so... _peaceful_. 

Just as she'd decided to leave him be, her cellphone rang, scaring the living shit out of her, and causing her to fall into his lap, effectively, waking him up.

"Oh my god, Ben! I am so sorry. My phone rang and I jumped, I-", she rashed, at a loss for words, and still very much nestled in his lap, compromisingly so. If Tripp walked in right now, he'd have a damn coronary. 

He immediately erupted into the sweetest laughter. She felt one of his arms linger behind the small of her back, while the other rested gently on her thigh.

"It's okay, Ciara. Like I said. You can clobber me anytime." He whispered softly, as their eyes locked, causing the energy in the room to shift from innocent banter to something more. Something that was...anything but.

When the hand behind her back slid up to the nape of her neck, she felt the most delicious shiver run down her spine, like she was...on fire. That's what he did to her. With one look. With one touch. He could make her feel like she was ready to combust. Burst into flames. Like she was- Like she was running through a blazing wildfire. But wildfires were direct results of instability in nature. They were incredibly _dangerous_ manifestations. Uncontrollable. As was this feeling. And as was their connection. 

"Uhhh, r- right." She mumbled breathless, as she awkwardly stumbled away from his embrace. "Did you- Did you sleep in that chair?", she finally asked.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. You, uh...you asked me to...uh...", he said, struggling to answer. She could see him searching for his words, like he was being extra careful as to what he was saying.

"Yeah? Asked you to what?", she questioned further.

"You were just...You were _really_ out of it, and I wanted to be here in case you needed anything else. I didn't want to leave you alone." He concluded. 

Why did she feel like there was something missing. Like he wasn't telling her the _whole_ story.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. That wasn't my intention." He said, worriedly.

"Not at all, Ben. Thank you. For taking care of me. And for, well, not letting me sleep on the bathroom floor." Ciara said, expressing her gratitude. 

"Your welcome. Anytime...That's what...friends are for right?", he remarked, glancing up at her, as he remained in the chair. 

_Friends._ She couldn't help but feel a sudden twinge, deep, deep in her chest. Why did the notion of them being friends and nothing more make her heart ache the way it just had? Could she be...falling in- No, she thought, quickly dismissing the possibility. She couldn't. The ramifications that _that_ would bring...would be _catastrophic_.

But she couldn't keep denying her heart like this. She'd done it for so long now, she wasn't even sure what it truly wanted half the time. She knew it would all come crashing down at one point or another. So, better it happen now in the confines of her own mind, than god forbid, _out loud_ , in front of her other roommates. She just... she couldn't be in love with him. It _had_ to be something else. There had to be another reason for their transcendent connection. It just...It _couldn't_ be love. If it were, _everything_ would change. 

What she'd been terrified to admit to herself for a long time now was finally staring her dead in the face. And this time, she couldn't avoid it. This time, she could no longer look away. Although she didn't want to be falling in love with him, deep down, she knew that she was. She knew that the feelings she harbored for him were...not going away. She was beginning to think that, perhaps, they _never_ would. 

The pounding currently happening around her forehead only intensified. She needed an aspirin and quick.

Ugh. Did she _really_ need to be having an epiphany right now? Hungover as shit? An epiphany about her possibly being in love with her ex-serial killer roommate no less? Why did the universe hate her? 

"Right." She finally mustered, faintly, as she slipped on an old pair of flip-flops, and headed towards the kitchen. "I'm- I'm gonna go make some coffee...do you want some?" She asked, wondering if she could get more information from last night's foggy events out of him. 

"Yes, please. Coffee sounds amazing right now." He chirped joyfully at the thought of caffeine. She heard him follow her out of her room and enter the bathroom. 

Opening the cabinet, she grabbed a fresh filter for the percolator and the tub of ground coffee. When she removed the lid, she was annoyed to find it empty. _Claire_. She had a terribly infuriating habit of putting things back in their place even after they were done. The milk carton. The pickle jar. The ketchup bottle. And now, the coffee tub. "Goddamnit, Claire. It's not that hard to _not_ put things back in the cabinet once they're empty." She grunted to herself.

This meant that she'd have to go get the extra coffee grounds bag they had above the cabinets, though. Ugh. She hated going up there. It was dusty and gross. And it was pretty high up. She'd have to use one of the stools.

She'd ask Ben, but he was still in the bathroom. And coffee just- It couldn't wait. 

Dragging one of the stools over to the counter, she quickly hopped up onto it and stood, slowly, making sure to keep her balance. With her body slightly bent over against the cabinets, she reached out as far as she could and tried to get a hold of the bag. 

"Come on, come on, just a little more." She muttered under breath. "Yes, gotcha!", she practically yelled, as she grasped one edge of the bag. Coming back down, however, proved to be a more dangerous feat as she abruptly lost her footing, falling backwards off the stool.

"Fuck!", she whimpered. This was it. She figured her clumsiness would be her end one day, it was only a matter of _when_. This was really how she was gonna go, huh? Pathetic. 

"Wh-Whoa!", Ben exclaimed, catching her just in the nick of time. He _must_ have gotten out of the bathroom right as she slipped.

Once again, she found herself in his strong embrace. This time however, his embrace did more than simply send a shiver down her spine. This time, his embrace seemed to jolt pieces of her memory back together. Pieces she thought were long gone.

_"C-Come on, Ben. Let's stop avoiding the elephant in the room, here. There's c-clearly...something between us."..._

The second their bodies made contact, she was hit with a series of flashes. From the night before.

_"We- we have this...connection that I d-don't understand and that I've never felt before...and it scares me, Ben. Y-You scare me."..._

Everything she'd been trying so hard to remember was coming back to her, all at once, as everything pieced together.

_"Whatever this is...whatever I feel for you...it scares the living shit out of me. And I've tried to mash it down. To avoid it. But I- I can't. Not a-anymore. It's undeniable. Y-You are undeniable...And I just- I can't seem to shake you. No matter what I do."..._

Like a puzzle finally complete. Like the fog around her mind had been lifted.

_"All I know is...this feels...right."..._

_Oh, god_. She understood why she was remembering...Why she felt like she was having deja vu. It was because they had been in this very same position just mere hours ago. Her exactly like this. In his arms. She hadn't just gotten wasted and passed out like he'd kept insisting. She'd straight up blurted out her feelings for him. She'd poured out her heart. She'd tried to _kiss_ him. Oh, this was mortifying. Worse than she could have ever imagined.

"Hey, are you hurt? you okay? You looked like you've seen a ghost." He said, letting go of her. 

She had to play this off. She couldn't let him know she _knew_ what had really gone down the night before.

"Yeah, no, um...just got- just got lightheaded there for a second. I guess the booze is taking its sweet ass time exiting my system. But thank you. For catching me." She mumbled, while attempting to regain her composure.

"It's no problem. Alright, so, how 'bout that coffee? You need any help?", he said, softly. 

"Yeah, you can grab two mugs from the cabinet, over there." She told him, as she opened the bag of coffee, wondering what the _hell_ had just happened. 

* * *

It had been 20 minutes since she'd made them coffee. Along with his coffee, he'd had a piece of toast with a fried egg, while _she,_ had cautiously stuck to her coffee, the thought of food making her stomach churn still. 

It had also been 20 minutes since she'd recovered every last bit of her memories.

"So, last night...I just...passed out, right? That's it?", she inquired, with a subtlety she hoped wouldn't arise any suspicions about her true intentions regarding the following series of questions. 

"Yeah, you, um, you kept downing shots like they were water. To the point where I had to take the bottle away. And that's when you ran to the bathroom to hurl." He recalled. 

" _Please_ tell me you didn't actually witness me be _ill_ like that?", she asked, terrified of his response. 

"Well, someone had to hold your hair." He chuckled.

"Oh, god. I am so sorry you had to witness such an atrocity." She retorted, with a horrifying look on her face.

"It wasn't that bad. Trust me, I've- I've seen worse." He reassured her.

Although she would forever be mortified at him witnessing her in such an appalling state, he still wasn't being completely truthful. Why wasn't he being honest with her about her little drunken confession? 

"So... I didn't start babbling incessantly...go on and on about everything and nothing? You know, cause...I've been told that I tend to be somewhat of an uncontrollable spaz when I drink." She explained, taking a sip of her coffee.

"No. Nothing noteworthy, really. I mean, you did, at one point, start talking about a cat named Muriel you had when you were little. But other than that, you didn't recite your credit card pin or social insurance number if that's what you mean." He said, giggling into his mug as he raised it to his mouth.

Okay, now she was annoyed. Why was he _lying?_ Why was he purposely omitting the way that she had completely spilled her guts to him. Was he trying to protect her?...Maybe he was trying to shield her from embarrassment?

Or perhaps, he wanted to shield her from the crushing guilt and shame he _knew_ she'd feel from such a cataclysmic admission. To think he'd want to protect her from that made her feel terribly sad. To know he thought so little of himself casted a somber shadow upon her heart.

Well, whatever the reason was, she'd find out. She'd get the truth out of him, one way or another. 

Oh, and she was _never_ drinking again. 


	9. The One With The Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Tripp and Claire away for the weekend, Ben finally gets the time to show Ciara his famous pancake recipe. But it isn't long before things get messy again. In more ways than one.

Diary 9.

Sept. 8th. 2018

Ben & Ciara.

As **Ciara** laid in bed, the morning light streaming closer to her line of sight was making it impossible to deny — it was time to get up. She looked over at the old fashioned alarm clock her mother insisted she have upon moving out.  8:30 . Leftover fatigue coursed through her limbs. Once again, she hadn’t slept great. Once again she’d woken up as she had for a few nights now: her heart racing, blood pumping. She just couldn’t shake the dream that had now become recurring. Ben sitting at her bedside softly nudging her awake, telling her that what he felt for her went way beyond gratitude...the sweet smell of his breath as he leaned in to kiss her and oh, just how easy it would be to let him... 

She practically had to snap herself out of her reverie. It was scary, how real it felt. Even moreso, how _right_ it felt. They’d had an interesting few days already what with their horrible fight, her impressive tequila-induced vomit pyrotechnics, and the knowledge that she’d spilled her guts to him about whatever was between them. _And_ that he'd lied about said drunken confession when she'd questioned him the following morning. She still wasn't quite sure what _that_ was all about. But she'd get it out of him and soon.

So for today, Ciara had decided they would be normal roommates. No more brutal emotional honesty, no more lingering stares or falling into his arms, and no more near kisses. Suddenly her breath caught in her throat. 

Her heart shouldn’t start to race the way it always did at the thought of his lips on hers. Her thoughts definitely shouldn’t wander as often as they did about  what his hands might feel like if they gently brushed her cheeks, against her jaw, then slid up into her hair—

“Snap OUT of it, Ciara!”, she whispered to herself, shoving the comforter off of her and sitting up straight. Desperate for a distraction, she grabbed her phone. 3 messages from Tripp. This early already? One  from 6am :

_“Morning gorgeous. Guess we’re staying in Chicago another night :/ I miss u sm, I’m sorry this was so last minute” _

Him and Claire, and the rest of the cafe staff had gone up to Chicago for the night to some restaurant convention looking for corporate sponsors. Suddenly, Ciara’s stomach dropped. Not at the fact that her boyfriend was out of town, but at the realization that, yet again, her and Ben would have the apartment to themselves for the night. 

“Great.” She said to herself. The two other texts were from just an hour ago: 

_ “Want anything? Souvenir? Pizza? Lol” _

_ “Wish u were here. Love u, cant wait 2 be home w/u” _

Boy, he was laying it on thick after their fight the other day. Reading his words, she waited to feel  something. But, as was the new normal since they’d officially gotten back together, she felt... _nothing_. She should feel glad that Tripp was making an effort. Instead, she could only wonder if the actual reason he missed her was because he wanted sex...and she just wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet. Somehow she wasn’t as excited as she knew she _should_ be at the thought of being with someone she cared about. Rather it almost felt like her duty as a girlfriend to sleep with him. She knew Tripp loved her and wasn’t actively pressuring her...but she could feel how much he wanted it. Her stomach twisted and dropped again at the thought. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why was it that the thought of sex with Tripp sounded so inexplicably...boring? Shouldn’t it feel exciting? But also safe? Passionate? Kind of like how it felt when she was...in Ben’s arms.

“Ugh! Get out of bed. Make some coffee. Keep your head on straight about your roommate.” Ciara could see each point like a checklist in her mind. She could and would do just that. 

“Avoid Ben Weston at all costs.”  She added with a silent thought as she got up from the bed, determined to make good on as many of those thoughts as she could.

* * *

Walking through the apartment first thing in the morning was one of **Ben’s** favorite things about living there. It was so still. So quiet. _Peaceful_. He’d never lived anywhere like that before. The parts of his childhood that he could remember were mostly terrifying. But the weekends Clyde was away - on a job, bender, sometimes both - were the ones he cherished. There were only a few, but he remembered them clearly. Making pancakes in the kitchen with his mother. It was the only time he’d ever felt normal, happy even. Looking at the clock on the oven he smiled.  8:30. Even if 2/3 of his roommates weren’t exactly the welcoming wagon, overall Ciara had been good to him. Extremely. Sure, they’d fought the other day and it had hurt...but she hadn't been wrong in what she’d said. His past _was_ never too far away. The fact that she was giving him an option to stay with them at all was honestly a miracle. Whatever else was between them, Ciara was unfailingly kind to the least deserving man he knew - himself. So aside from the nearly finished bike, he’d repay the favor the only other way he knew how. Pancakes. She’d liked them in the cabin, and now he had a full kitchen to work with, one in which he could really do his mother’s recipe justice. 

He smiled in spite of himself as he went to the fridge to find the eggs. He relished any chance he got to take care of her in any way. Plus, even he had to admit his pancakes were pretty stellar. Whatever else he may feel, him and Ciara were friends. She deserved to be taken care of. She was special as hell and he’d never miss a chance to remind her, even if a certain little boy barely worthy to call himself her boyfriend didn’t...

“Chill, Weston. Don’t go there.” He muttered to himself.

As he’d often had to tell himself recently, the irritation he felt towards Tripp at how lucky he _didn’t_ seem to realize he was, had to stop. It didn’t matter what he thought of Tripp. Ciara had made her choice. She was with  him. End of story. Besides, he knew he didn’t stand a snowflakes’ chance in hell with her. Regardless of their near miss the other day, or the tequila confessions she’d made the other night, the reality was inescapable. He would _never_ be good enough for Ciara Brady. Not in this lifetime. Not in fifty lifetimes. His heart sank as reality hit him square in the face once again. The truth was unavoidable. So he’d keep doing what he had been - vaulting up his feelings deep inside him. Remembering how grateful he was to even _know_ her and to be in her life at all. And as much as he wanted more, it would never work. They had _too_ much against them. 

Uncertainty clearly plagued his future. But one thing he _was_ sure of right now was...pancakes. He'd m ake her a great breakfast and try to not think too much of what the rest of his life was going to look like. 

Damn, that smile of hers? It was a doozy. And the way her perfect emerald eyes lit up every time she did... 

“Pancakes, Weston. Focus on the pancakes.”

* * *

**Ciara** winced a little as a loud groan of protest came from the bedroom door as she walked out of her room. The damned thing was annoying as hell but there was something about it she also thought gave the loft more character. Still, she closed it gingerly behind her so as not to wake Ben. But as it latched shut she realized there was noise coming from the kitchen. something sizzled inside a pan that smelled heavenly. Something awfully close to— 

“Pancakes? Ben Weston, what are you up to?”, Ciara grinned at the sight of Ben in sweats, a tank top and one of Claire's aprons. Upon hearing her, he turned her direction and went scarlet. 

“Ciara... I wasn’t thinking you’d be up this early.” Ben said sheepishly, carefully trying to take off the apron without drawing too much attention to it.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt, Benny Crocker.” Ciara chuckled, trying to hold back full on laughter. Ben smirked, his flush only deepening."Never would have pegged you for a floral kind of guy, though. But hey! To each their own." She teased, taking a jab at the apron he'd chosen to wear.

“Benny Crocker?! Seriously?!”, he repeated, jokingly. 

“I mean, if the apron fits.” She retorted with a smirk. 

“It was the only one I could find! Good God, Brady. You are a savage!” Ben replied with a grin. Ciara continued to laugh, but did her best to somewhat contain it. “But the name fits, I guess. I’ve certainly been called worse so...I’ll take it.” He smiled again at her over his shoulder, his attention back on the hot pan. Ciara finally was able to settle down, a small amount of relief washing through her. Thank god it wasn’t awkward anymore. Whatever weird vibes that she’d birthed between them with her drunken confessions were gone.

“Don’t worry...your secret’s safe with me. No one will ever know that you prefer aprons to hand towels when cooking. Scouts’ honor.” Ciara replied with a smile, lifting a hand over her heart. “So... What’s a girl gotta do around here to earn herself one of Ben Weston’s world famous pancakes? Can I help in exchange for a couple?” She offered, standing up from her seat at the bar. 

“Well, probably stop with all the mocking. That'd be a good first step.” He could barely get the words out without laughing. “No, seriously, it’s cool. I’ve got this. Just sit back and be amazed."

“Really though. What can I do?”, she insisted.

“Not a chance, Ciara. You just stay put and let me dazzle you with my flapjack-flipping abilities.” Ben replied quickly, making Ciara smirk. 

“Oh come on, I can’t just let you do all the work! I could help, I’ll feel bad eating them if I don’t do something.” Ciara protested. Ben shook his head, turning to face her. 

“No way, Ciara. After everything you’ve done for me? It’s because of you that I’m making these in a real kitchen and not in line for runny oatmeal at the homeless shelter. Making you breakfast doesn’t begin to repay you for what you’ve done for me. But it’s a start. Please, just sit. Let me do this for you.” He said, earnestly. Ciara ignored the way her heart skipped a beat at his honesty, his gratitude, and earth-stoppingly beautiful smile. Instead, she slowly took her seat at the bar once more. 

“Alright then, I’ve gotta know. What is it about your pancakes that makes them smell so damn good?! I mean, I’m hungry. But the moment I came out of my room, my mouth was practically watering.” She confessed.

“Oh that? It's a trade secret, Miss Brady.” Ben shot back, causing Ciara’s eyebrows to raise. 

“Oh come on!” Ciara whined as Ben shook his head. “I bet I could guess...” 

“Nope! You’re not getting it out of me. Besides, you’d never be able to figure it out anyway.” He continued.

“Challenging me isn’t a good idea, Weston.” Ciara warned, grabbing her phone carefully. Ben laughed.  “I think in this arena? I’m safe.” 

“What the hell does that mean?”, Ciara posed, slightly offended at whatever he was insinuating.

“Ciara, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but you... are a _terrible_ cook.” Ben said flatly. Ciara’s mouth fell open.  “What?!” 

“I’ve seen you burn toast. On the low setting. And remember when you cooked an entire packet of spaghetti into one big noodle? You’ve got a lot of talents, but cooking is simply _not_ one of them.” Ben laughed, using a spatula to flip a pancake without even looking as if to prove his point. 

“Not gonna lie, I'm a little  offended over here . I can’t believe I’m getting dragged by a dude in a pink floral apron!”, Ciara fired back, but couldn’t help laughing, too. Once his focus was back on the pancakes, she decided to make her move. “Ben, oh my god!”, she said, feigning fear in her voice. He turned so quickly the spatula was still in his hand as he looked at her with concern... and just enough time to see and hear her phone’s camera click. He froze, realizing that she’d just gotten a full on actual picture of him in his sweats and the floral apron. 

“Ciara.” Ben said quietly, like approaching a wounded animal. She grinned at him, triumphant, as she walked over towards him, waving her phone in her hand. “And what do you think you’re going to do with that picture exactly?”, he questioned her. 

“Just gonna hold onto it for future reference.” 

Ben winced. “How long are we talking here?” 

“Only the next 30 years or so.” Ciara grinned, blinking at him, innocently. His eyes darted to her hand and he reached for the phone. Ciara quickly put her arms behind her back out of his reach. She squealed slightly as his arms stretched around her, trying to coax it out of her hands. They were both giggling, and he was always just one second too late to grab it from her until finally somehow she had wrapped her arms around him and his hands rested on her waist. Breathless from laughter, she leaned against him without thinking. His long fingers flexed against her hips and they both stood frozen. Ciara wasn’t sure how much time had passed by. 10 seconds? 30? 10 minutes? Jolted back to reality, he quickly released her and went back to the stovetop. 

“Oh, we’ll see.” Ben said quietly, clearing his throat. Her breath was still coming out far too heavy as she walked back to the bar to regain her seat, re-establishing the distance between them. And just like that, the electric energy that was always running between them was making blood pound in her ears, producing a tingling sensation throughout her whole body. 

“Breakfast really is the best meal, you know. And the only one where cake is encouraged as the main course.” Ciara said with as even a voice as she could muster. Ben nodded without turning toward her, his focus on the task at hand.

“Yeah. When I was a kid, the few good memories I have of my mom was when we’d make breakfast together. Pancakes were our favorite, and hers were always the best. Sometimes Jordan would run out to pick blueberries so it’d just be the two of us. She always added just a kiss’ of something, and that's what gave it the best taste. That's what made it better than anyone’s, even to this day.” Ben smiled in Ciara’s direction as he recalled the memory. She couldn’t help but do the same. He hardly ever brought up his mom unless it was about their abuse. Plus, he was such an enticing and eloquent storyteller. She could literally listen to him all day. He turned off the stovetop and continued as he grabbed plates from the tall cupboard. 

“So after she died, when Jordan and I took off on the run, I must’ve spent years trying to make them just like hers. But I could never do it. I tried everything - different kinds of vanilla, flour, eggs... I could never get it right. And then, we were staying in this old boarding house, B&B type of deal in South Carolina. I’ll never forget it. This older woman named Constance owned it, and she let Jordan and me stay for doing jobs around the house. Maintenance, gardening, and whatever she needed, basically. After a few months, she started teaching us how to cook. Gravy. French onion soup. Meatloaf. The best damn chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had... and one day, after we'd been there about a year, she started making pancakes for the house guests. The scent brought me back in time. It was like I was 7 years old all over again. That day was when I found out what my mother’s secret ingredient was.” Ben smiled again, setting a plate of 3 perfectly stacked pancakes down in front of Ciara. She leaned forward, totally engrossed. 

“What was it?” Ciara asked.

Ben stood silently, just eating his own plate. 

“Ben Weston. What is it?!” Ciara pleaded. Still, he just smiled. 

“Take a bite and let’s see if you can tell me? Ms. Ragu.” He fired back. Ciara’s eyes narrowed but she grinned and quickly obliged. They really did smell incredible. Taking the bite she could see his head cock to the side, examining her. She chewed slowly, the sweetness of the vanilla was there, and something else. Almost savory... honey? No. Damn, she really just couldn’t put a finger on what else could be there. He took another bite from his own plate, still not taking his eyes off her. Ciara could barely chew she was smiling so big, she loved this playful, fun side of him. It clearly wasn't a side many people got to see. She felt honored that he felt safe enough with her to show her that part of him. 

“Alright, me and my unrefined palate give up. What is it? What was your mom’s secret ingredient?” 

Ben grinned, his eyes full. “Nutmeg. Just a ‘skosh’, as Constance said. Just to give it the little savory flavor, and makes the syrup that much sweeter.” He finally admitted.

“Hmmm. Nutmeg! Of course. You’re right. I never would have guessed that. They truly are amazing. Really, thank you so much for this, Ben.” Ciara spoke softly. 

“You’re welcome. Like I said, it’s nothing in comparison to what you’ve done for me, but, it’s something.” 

“Ben, I loved this breakfast. But you don’t have to repay me for anything. You saved my life on that road. You set my leg. You literally nursed me back to health. I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it wasn’t for you.” Ciara said, recounting everything _he'd_ done for her. 

“You know, we stayed there with Constance for over a year. I think she probably would’ve let us stay forever if, well...If she could’ve.” Ben smiled sadly, grabbing Ciara’s plate. 

“What happened to her?”, she said, standing to help clean up. 

“Her mind was starting to go. Slowly...but then Jordan and I could see it was getting worse fast. And when she was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, her kids put her in assisted living. Once she was gone, they sold the house and me and Jordan were gone. Just like that.” He placed the plates into the sink and Ciara wiped down the counter. “I loved that house. It was the only place that felt anything like a real home that whole time we were on the run. I’ll never have that again, I accepted that a long time ago. But it would be nice, one day. To have... _something_ I can call mine, you know?” 

He looked down at her, his eyes full of some unknown emotion. She set the towel down on the counter, just inches from him. “You _will_ have a place like that again, someday. A home. One that feels safe and stable and one that ’s... _yours_ . There's no doubt in my heart that it will happen for you.” Ciara said, now facing him completely. 

“Well... it’s just you then.” Ben said, defeated, looking away. Without thinking, her hand was on top of his. 

“Look at me, Ben. I believe in you. I have for a long time now, and I won’t stop. Ever.” She pledged defiantly. 

His eyes burned back at hers, with pain and regret, clinging to her every word like a lifeline. “You have no idea what that means to me, Ciara.” Ben whispered. She realized their breathing had synced up. Their hearts beating in tandem, as they stood staring at each other. The electricity was rising again, hot and strong. But this time it surged through from the contact of her hand on his. His eyes changed again, looking down at her lips. And just like that, it was as if every nerve ending in her body was standing straight up, pulling her towards him. Gravity was no match for this. It was her dream, all over again. But the reality of it was so much more powerful. His breath was warm and sweet, his hand was reaching for her side, and she braced herself knowing his lips were headed straight for hers. Her whole body sung with anticipation — yes. She wanted this. This was inevitable. This was... _right_. What was _meant_ to happen. There was no getting around it anymore. 

Suddenly, the vibration of her phone on the counter rang through the loft like a gunshot, very effectively, breaking the spell. 

He was already feets away from her, as she quickly walked towards the other side of the bar, phone in hand. The moment, yet again passing, without even a smidge of release.

“Hey, I’m gonna finish cleaning up if you want to shower. I know you like to first thing in the morning, and I just figured I’d give you a chance since Claire isn’t here to beat you to it.” Ben said kindly, his voice very even. But he couldn't quite look at her just yet.

“No, that’s okay. Actually, since you made breakfast, why don’t you let _me_ clean up and you get first dibs on the shower? Come on, it’s only fair after you just slaved away.” Ciara offered. 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“I know. But I want to. Please, let me.” Ciara pouted ever so slightly, knowing it would give her the outcome she wanted. Ben hesitated just long enough that she slid in front of the sink and started rinsing before he could change his mind. He shook his head and smiled. 

“Alright. Just this once. Thanks, Ciara.” Ben smiled, finally making eye contact with her. He was behind his barrier again, she sighed. Vulnerable Ben was gone for the time being. 

“Don’t sweat it. Go get the first hot water of the day, you deserve it.” Ciara smiled kindly. 

“Thank you, Ciara.” He said, finally walking to the bathroom. 

As soon as the door was closed and the shower was on, she leaned back against the sink. Her breathing had recovered but her heart rate had not. They had almost kissed. _Again_. This was going on three times now. What the hell was she thinking? Letting him hold her like that, grabbing his hand that way, letting herself lean into him...her stomach muscles tightened as she heard Ben enter the shower and pull the curtain. Something pooled in her lower belly, hot and consuming. She grabbed her phone to distract herself as she didn’t dare identify the delicious feeling. Not shocking in the least, the interruption from earlier had come in a text from Tripp. 

_ “Headed home early! See you soon. xx" _

She read the words and felt absolutely _nothing_ about them. It paled in comparison to what she now understood had been pooling in her belly from the moment she’d woken up this morning. 

Desire. 

The all-consuming-lose-all-rationality kind that gave her half a mind to strut into the bathroom right then... but taking a breath she reminded herself of the 83 reasons _that_ was a non-starter. Why letting Ben Weston, ever touch, kiss, or make love to her was utterly out of the question. 

There was one thing she was grateful for in regards to Tripp coming home early. It meant that she wouldn't be alone with Ben again.

In her heart, she knew that another night alone in the loft with Ben would only end one way. She knew there were only so many near misses they could have before something really happened between them. Something they wouldn't be able to stop this time. Once she was done cleaning, she walked back toward her bedroom and closed the door. Flopping down on her bed, she was split with two very different fears. 

Afraid that it _would_ happen between them and...deeply afraid it _never_ would.


	10. The One With The Admission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ciara and Ben are left to spend yet another night alone at the loft, secrets are revealed and admissions are made, leading both of them to a place they may never come back from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here y'all go. This bad boy took a while to complete, but it's finally yours. Enjoy.

Diary 10. 

Sept. 8th. 2018. 

Ciara.

It was 4:30 in the afternoon when she heard her phone vibrate on her bedside table. Probably a text from Tripp, letting her know they were almost home.

_“Hey, bad news. Our car broke down a while ago. We’re stranded on the freeway right now. The tow truck is on its way, but we have no idea when the car’s gonna be fixed, which means we won’t be home until tomorrow. We all decided to just stay put for tonight, probably at a hotel. So bummed, was looking forward to seeing you. I’ll keep you posted. xx”_

No, no, no, no, she repeated over and over in her head. This _was_ bad news. She couldn’t spend another night alone with Ben. Too much had happened since Tripp and Claire had left. At this point, they were quite literally, a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any second. Ready to unleash _weeks_ of tension…of unspoken thoughts...of unwavering, forbidden feelings. And If yesterday’s almost kiss was any indication, as well as her drunken confession from two nights ago, she feared another night alone, just the two of them, would be the one they would never come back from.

Taking a deep, long breath, she looked at herself in the mirror, rearranging the black tank she had on.

“Okay, Ciara, you can do this. It’s not that hard, just don’t do anything. Not kissing someone is incredibly easy actually. People do it all the time. They see someone and they just don't kiss them.” She whispered, giving herself a pep talk before heading out to the main area, where Ben was.

The second she stepped foot in the kitchen, she felt his eyes on her instantly. His burning gaze. It always lingered a little bit longer than it should, making the butterflies in her stomach flutter tenfold. 

“Hey you, I was wondering if you were ever going to come out of that room.” Ben said, greeting her.

“Haha, yeah, sorry I’ve been a little M.I.A today, I had some schoolwork to get done.” She told him, lying through her teeth.

She’d done nothing of the sort. Instead, she’d spent the entire afternoon thinking about the past two days and how she’d drunkenly blurted out her feelings for him, while also attempting to make a move, which he then proceeded to lie about. Oh, and let’s not forget how she had not stopped replaying their near kiss from this morning in her head. God did she want to kiss him. In fact, she often found herself wanting for them to do more than just kiss. Much more.

But she also wanted to curse him out a little. He had yet to tell her the truth about the intense moment they’d shared and she wanted to know why.

“Are Tripp and Claire gonna be home soon?”, he inquired.

“Actually, about that, Tripp just texted me. Their car broke down somewhere on the freeway. They’re all gonna crash at a hotel. So, they won’t be home until tomorrow.” She explained, feeling the tension in the air already. 

“Oh. That sucks.” He replied, neither of them really wanting to acknowledge the implications of what that meant. Neither of them brave enough to address the elephant in the room. That elephant being the fact that, yet again, they would be spending the night together in the loft…alone.

“So.” She finally uttered, breaking the tense silence that had filled the room. 

“So.” He shot right back, with a shy smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

“Pizza?”, she asked, causing a laugh to erupt from his body.

* * *

It was close to 7:30 when Ben finished his last slice, taking a sip of his beer.

“Want another?”, Ciara asked, pointing to the empty beer bottles on the counter. They’d already had two each.

“No, no. Thank you. I’m good.” He said with a smile, kindly declining her offer.

“You sure? There’s plenty in the fridge.” She counter offered. She was being persistent for a reason. 

“I’m sure.” He reiterated.

Alright, this was her cue.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. Not a good idea. I mean, we’ve both seen what happens when I drink too much, right?”, she spoke, waiting to see any inkling of change in his demeanor at her words.

“Right. We have.” He answered back, coyly. 

“I talk way too much. Ramble, actually. No coherency whatsoever. I sing like, every song that comes on, and horribly at that. And, when my liver can’t take anymore, off to the bathroom floor I go.” She listed, as she continued to be highly observant of him. 

“Yeah, that’s true, you do.” He chuckled. He was calm, but he was also nervous. The way he kept looking down was his tell. 

“So, that’s it, huh? That’s really _all_ that I do?”, she retorted, hoping he’d understand what she was alluding to this time.

“What?”, he spoke, the confusion in his voice evident…Until finally, he'd caught on. He knew what she was doing. He knew where she was getting at.

Their eyes locked from across the kitchen island. A tension-filled silence quickly settled in space that separated them. There was no need to say anything more. If the look in his eye was any indication, he knew she knew. 

“I have to go. I- I can’t do this, Ciara.” Ben mumbled, getting up from his seat, heading straight for the door.

He was running away again. Something they were _both_ all too familiar with. Something they were _both_ so good at. But she was exhausted. No more. She was done running. This was her last chance. If she didn't ask for answers now, she'd never get them. He'd walk out of her life for good. If she didn’t say anything now, she feared she’d have to forever hold her peace.

“Why did you lie!?”, she blurted out, _finally,_ her voice trembling.

“Ciara, don’t do this.”

“Do what? I have a right to know. You promised me! That night in the park, you promised me you'd never lie to me. But It’s been two days now, and for those two days, you've been lying to my face.” She uttered.

“Please.” He pleaded.

“Okay, so the other night when I was wasted, I _didn’t_ come on to you, then? I _didn’t_ pour my heart out and confess my deepest feelings? The feelings that I have for _you_?

“Ciara-“, he began to say before she cut him off.

“Don’t even. I asked you, point blank, if _anything_ had happened, and you- you lied. Straight to my face.” Ciara continued, her tone constantly shifting from livid to being on the verge of tears. 

He only looked at her, with a heartfeltness she’d never witnessed before.

“Why, Ben?! I want to know _why_.” She said, whimpered, almost. “You owe me this. You owe me the truth. I am so sick and tired of _everyone_ in my life lying-”

This time it was him who refused to let her finish.

“It was for you! I- I did it for you, okay!? I wanted to- I was trying to save you the from the embarrassment…From the shame.” He confessed.

“Embarrassment? Shame? What are you talking ab-“, she retorted, confused.

“The shame of having feelings for me! You know, me, the reformed serial killer?! the town lunatic? Salem's cold-blooded monster?”, he said, dejected and broken.

“Ben…”, she started to say. She never wanted to hurt him, yet she feared she may have. 

“You wanted the truth. There it is. _That’s_ why I didn’t tell you what really happened between us. Why I didn't tell you about what you said to me... about your feelings.” He added.

Suddenly, she felt her body take a few steps closer to his. Unable to control it, she was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Like the undeniable pull between the moon and the waves.

“I think I'm- I think I’m falling in love with you, Ciara. I’ve tried to deny it. I’ve tried to convince myself that it’ll pass, and that it’s just a manifestation of the gratitude I feel towards you. But it’s not. I’ve realized that what I feel for you is much more than gratitude. It may have started out that way, but then I got to know you. I got to witness your strength and your kindness and your loyalty.” He said, laying it all out on the table.

She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected this admission. 

His intense gaze never left hers. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears and out of her chest. His words were cutting deep. They were affecting every fiber of her being, every little piece of her heart.

“I got to see the sparkle you get in your eye when you're talking about your family. The cute crinkle that settles on the bridge of your nose when you laugh too hard. The way you softly and quietly exhale with your whole body after you’ve had your first sip of coffee in the morning. I- I got to see _you_ , Ciara. Who you are. And I fell. I mean, how could I not? You are without a doubt, the most beautiful human I have ever known.” He went on, professing the feelings she knew she felt for him as well. How could she have been so blind. She had spent the past weeks falling in love, too. It just hadn't been with Tripp.

She still hadn’t said anything. Instead, she'd let him speak, as she tried to process _everything_.

“And I know you’re in love with someone else, and that even if you weren’t, well, it’d still be a long shot. But- But I’m telling you anyway. There’s no point in hiding it anymore, right? It’s not like anything could ever come of it…It’s not like you could ever really feel the s-”

And before she knew it, she’d closed the distance between them…Before she knew it, she was kissing him, her lips crashing onto his with a fervor she'd never felt before.

This was not just any kind of kiss. This was the kind of kiss that made you forget your name. The kind of kiss you could feel in your toes. The kind of kiss that made your heart leap. The kind of kiss that...spoke to your _soul._

For a brief moment, it was like they were the only two people on the planet.

There was _no_ going back this time. Not now. Not _ever_.

As the kiss intensified, Ciara wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. She felt his strong hands travel down from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, sending the most delicious shiver up her spine. This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. This was something entirely different.

With Tripp, there’d always been a twinge of _uncertainty_ in her lips. A small, but ever-present _hesitance_. Like maybe they shouldn’t be kissing. Like maybe they shouldn’t be together at all. _This_ felt nothing like that. Her lips were _sure_. Here, right now, in this moment with Ben, her lips carried absolutely no doubt.

Finally coming up for air, Ciara placed her hands on either side of his cheeks before slowly resting her forehead against his.

“Ciara“, he whispered, as she gently placed a finger over his lips, effectively stopping him from saying anything more. 

“But I do, Ben...feel the same. Everything I said to you two nights ago was the truth. I meant every word. For so long, I’ve tried to forget about it. And I’ve tried to mash it deep, deep down inside of my heart. But it’s undeniable. _We_ are undeniable.” She admitted, aloud, for the first time.

Well, for the first time, _sober_ , at least.

She could see his mind was racing, taking in every word she was saying.

“And I know that this changes…everything. But I’m- I’m done letting other people dictate my life. My mom, Julie, Rafe, Tripp…I’m done letting them make my decisions for me. I’m done being afraid to… _to follow my heart_.”

With that, she kissed him once more. As their bodies moved together, she felt herself let go. She felt herself give in to every single feeling she’d denied her heart. His hands traveled back up to her neck, with one resting at the nape, while the other raked through her curls, causing the sensual ache between her thighs to grow stronger. Needing more of him, she slipped the black hoodie off his shoulders, leaving him clad in only his white wife beater, revealing remarkably chiseled arms. They were both lost in the moment now...in each other. Their movements didn’t feel awkward or clumsy. Rather, they were _rhythmic_ …smooth. It was as if their bodies knew exactly what to do. How to move. How to touch. How to feel.

It was as if they had _always_ been doing this. And even though she knew it _should_ feel wrong, nothing in her life had ever felt more right.

Traipsing from the kitchen towards her bedroom, their kiss deepened even more, as his tongue explored her own. Next thing she knew, her hand had fallen down to the bulge that had formed atop his jeans. She teasingly grazed it, causing a moan to escape his mouth, briefly breaking their kiss.

“Ciara”, Ben whimpered, breathless. 

She had no idea where this newfound confidence emanated from, but she liked it. She wouldn’t have dared to do something like that with Tripp. And yet here with Ben, she’d never felt so brazen in her life. 

Before they reached the entrance to her room, he knelt down slightly, placed his hands right below her ass, and picked her up in one swift motion. Straddling him now, her lips wandered down to the sensitive flesh right below his jaw, making him groan in pleasure. She felt his grasp around her waist tighten. Knowing that he was unraveling before her very eyes only furthered her own arousal. She was pleased to know that she had as much a profound effect on him as he did on her.

It wasn’t long before they fell on the bed, their bodies fully intertwined. As soon as he’d settled on top of her, she stripped him of the remaining piece of clothing that stood between her and his naked chest. 

“ _Touch me_ , Ben.” She whispered, her voice low and soft. 

It’s not so much that he wasn’t present in the moment with her, but she felt a certain restraint on his part, understandably so. Knowing her history, it was only a normal reaction, she supposed.

"Please." She pleaded this time, her lips against his ear. "I want you to touch me. _Everywhere_." She continued, before gently nibbling his earlobe.

“ _Fuck_ ", he groaned. "Ciara, are you sure, I just, I don’t want to do someth- I don’t want to mess-“, he spoke, barely catching his words. 

“You won’t.” She said, interrupting him. “I want you to. I want this.” She declared, placing both hands on his face. “Do- Do _you_ want this, Ben?”

It took no more than a second for him to answer her question with the most passionate of kisses.

Every time his lips touched hers, it was like she could feel them making their mark, leaving an imprint of some kind, one she wouldn’t soon forget. Maybe never. 

He buried himself in her neck next, while she let one of her hands slide down his back. When she reached his ass, instead of gliding over top of his jeans, she slid beneath them and dug her fingers in one cheek.

A deep moan left his body, as she felt the vibration echo against her neck. In the following instant, he flipped them, ridding them of their previous position, so that _he_ was now underneath _her_. She lowered herself back down to his mouth, letting her tongue roam about, while her hands found themselves pinning his wrists above his head. The power she was feeling at the moment was almost transcending. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Their breathless moans filled the dimly-lit room. 

As soon as she let go of his wrists, he brought them both back up to a sitting position. Grabbing her chin, he kissed her with an intensity that made her whole body tingle, while his other hand slid underneath her top and caressed her back. When his hand reached the hem of her shirt, he paused and looked at her before continuing. It took her a few seconds, but she quickly realized that he was asking for permission. Returning his loving gaze, she placed her hand across his cheek and planted the sweetest of kisses on his lips, hoping he'd take the hint. Thankfully, he understood, and swiftly pulled her tank top over her head, revealing a lacy black bralette.

"God, Ciara. You are _beautiful_." He spoke, with a vehemence that made her blush, before he buried himself between her breasts. leaving a trail of languid kisses along the sensitive skin.

"Ahhh", she cried out in pleasure. They continued like this for a few seconds more, until she’d, without realizing, begun to grind her hips against his erection. And although the sensation was exquisite, the friction alone wouldn’t be enough. She wanted him. Needed him. _All_ of him. Right now. But they were wearing too many clothes still, which is why her hands started working on his belt next.

That was when she heard a familiar sound coming from the top of her dresser.

It was her phone. Fuck. Tripp.


End file.
